


prize your heart of gold (the way i do)

by mellowellom



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, I apologise, M/M, Movie based, Very Very Slow Burn, With some twists, but when it burns it BURNS, hang on with me here, princess diaries 2 au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 17:09:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12017292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellowellom/pseuds/mellowellom
Summary: Isak's a bit unsure about his future royal duties, but he's more unsure about his feelings towards Even Bech Næsheim, the guy who is out to take his throne.A Princess Diaries 2 AU





	prize your heart of gold (the way i do)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [allyasavedtheday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyasavedtheday/gifts).



> this is a gift for allyasavedtheday as she was the one who gave me that final push to get my hands going and write this! i truly hope you (and every single other reader who comes across this fic) will enjoy it just as much as i enjoyed writing this up while playing the scenes in my head, imagining isak and even in anne and chris' positions.
> 
> without further ado, i present you the princess diaries: the royal engagement au
> 
> p.s. apologies in advance if there are any silly mistakes, i never really re-read my own stuff, because i just can't. i feel a little embarrassed when i do, i dont know why :/

**QUEEN** :

...And there is no other choice but for me to step down, and hand over the reins of our kingdom to my son, Isak Valtersen. May he stand by Trivolia and may Trivolia be with him.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

And that was the Queen's speech from yesterday's royal announcement! Isak Valtersen will be taking over her position in two months.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

He's so young! He just finished his high school degree, didn't he?

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Indeed. I heard he's also celebrating his eighteenth birthday tomorrow, and that he'll be searching for potential suitors there.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

We're invited to the royal birthday, Brigitte! What is all this ‘you've heard’? We know he will be celebrating it!

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Yes, yes, we know. But our viewers might not! Don't worry though, we'll be getting all the inside scoop for you guys.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

If Brigitte doesn't get too drunk to talk and be professional, that is.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Karoline, when have we ever really been professional?

 

# #

 

“Do I _really_ need to dance with every single girl?” Isak whines while Jean gives his hair the final touches. When Isak shakes his head up and down and side to side, just to test the texture, his hair bounces lightly. Jean gives him a nod of approval through the mirror and he turns in his chair to face his mother.

 

“Not necessarily, dear,” she says calmly from the edge of his bed. “Just anyone that asks. You've got to be polite and dance with them, even if you don't really want to. It's your eighteenth birthday, and you're finally of age to succeed to the throne, and it's always going to be nice to share your palace with a partner.”

 

“You share your palace without Pappa,” Isak points out, walking in his socks across the room and sitting beside his mother. She wraps an arm around his shoulders and brings him to her side. 

 

She brushes the sides of his hair, and Isak can see Jean open his mouth in horror before closing it. He must've thought twice before speaking to the Queen without permission. “That's because I've got you, my little prince.”

 

Isak sighs in his mother's arms, wraps his own around her waist and brings his feet up on the bed. “I don't think I'm in the mood for a party.”

 

“You've still got to attend. It's your own party, after all,” she places a finger beneath his chin and lifts his head up. “What would people say if the very own birthday boy doesn't show up to his own birthday party?”

 

He rolls his eyes before sitting up and pulling on the hem of his shirt. He's still got to tuck it into his trousers. “It would be very rude.”

 

His mother tuts at him, “That eye roll I just caught there was very rude, too.” She stands up and adjusts her gown before her maids take a step closer, and her bodyguard places her crown atop her head. “Are you going to be good?”

 

Isak nods and stands up, tucks his shirt into his trousers and scans the room for his penguin blazer. “Yes, mum.” He adjusts his bow tie as he continues to scan his room. It can't have disappeared, right? 

 

“Are you ready to go?” she asks, already heading towards the door. “You're up one minute after me. You remember how it goes, right?”

 

He hums in response, mind already going at one thousand miles per hour when, thankfully, his manservant pops up by his side and hands him his blazer. Isak visibly relaxes, sighs out in relief and pats Magnus' shoulder. “Thanks, man,” he whispers, just so his mother won't hear. 

 

“Isak?”

 

“Coming,” he calls out, slipping into his shoes while walking towards the door to follow behind his mother. Magnus catches up to him quickly, does an awkward walk where he's also bending down to tie up Isak's shoelaces. Isak feels sorry for him, so he stays still and lets him do his thing before running behind his mother loudly. She turns his head and glares at him, ever so elegantly, and Isak can do nothing but flash an innocent smile before walking at what would be considered a Royal Pace. 

 

She walks past the doors to the ballroom while Isak hangs behind. He hears the fanfare begin and end, the clapping from the guests as she descends the stairs. Soon, his name is being announced, and then the doors open as his bodyguard tells him to step forward with a hand.

 

Isak takes a deep breath, and steps into the ballroom. 

 

# #

 

 **KAROLINE** :

He's just entered! Looking as young as ever, in a pretty snazzy penguin suit, I must admit.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Oh, please! Stop fawning over the Prince, he's just turned 18!

 

 **KAROLINE** :

I was _not_ fawning. It was just a casual observation. Oh, he's descending the stairs. Doesn't he look a bit lonely?

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

[ _laughs_ ]

You're twice his age!

 

 **KAROLINE** :

I think he looks a bit lonely, maybe he'll find his princess tonight amongst the many girls here. Happy birthday, Prince Isak. May you find your one true love amongst your invitees.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Happy birthday, indeed.

 

# #

 

Isak has danced with so many princesses that he's starting to believe his mother has set him up. There is no way that he would've ever approved so many princesses being on the guest list. His mother may be the Queen, but he should have had more say in his own birthday party, right? If he'd planned it all, it would be more of a celebration and less of an episode from The Bachelor. It would also have had more alcohol, now that he's finally of age and can drink publicly without any real media attention.

 

He expertly avoids dancing with a princess who is definitely too old to be marriage material for him — neither was his previous dancing partner, as she had been merely ten, but he'd had a good time twirling her around in circles as she laughed and lapped up the spotlight — in favour of heading over to the canapés table. Half of them are gone, and Isak stands by the side, observing each topping as he decides for which one he will go for. 

 

There's a single salmon and cream cheese one with caviar on top that is basically calling — no, screaming — to him, and he's about to take it when another hand is moving to grab the same canapé. 

 

“Oh, sorry,” a deep, evidently male voice says, retracting his hand before taking a bow. “It's all yours, Prince Isak.”

 

And. He's a little bit mesmerised by the man. Or boy, if he prefers to be called that. Isak shakes his head. These are his own thoughts, so he can call him whatever he wants. Man, boy, guy, dude. Whichever one that matches best with the adjective _beautiful_ is fine with him. 

 

The boy raises his eyebrows, his lips tugging into a polite smile. 

 

Isak's never really doubted his sexuality. He's always liked girls, and whenever he was hanging out with Jonas and his group of friends, he'd always gravitated towards girls with fragile-looking skin, long, blonde locks and rosy cheeks. He's never really kissed any of them — what a disgrace that would be in the eyes of his mother — because he didn't trust them enough. He has always been scared of dishonesty and of being tricked into their own personal projects, so he's always stayed close enough to know he liked these girls, but far enough so he wouldn't send the wrong message. Jonas had always pushed him to hook up with one or two, only the ones he'd deemed sophisticated enough to be royal material, but Isak had always backed out. So, he's eighteen and he's never been kissed and he's never found a _male_ that he's wanted to kiss. Until now.

 

“Your Royal Highness?”

 

Isak blinks twice. And then he remembers where he's at. “Oh, yes. Uhm.” What was he doing just before he'd dreamed about waking up next to this boy? Ah, yes! The canapé! “Thank you,” he says, taking it from the male's fingers and popping it into his mouth. He's obviously forgotten all about royal etiquette. His mother would have definitely told him off for that.

 

The guy smiles wider, his eyes crinkling shut and hiding the bluest of irises. 

 

Isak sneakily wipes his fingers on the table cloth, can't be bothered to walk around with greasy fingers looking for a napkin, and the boy chuckles. It's truly a magical sound. He's about to try and make conversation with him — the topics he's currently got in his mind are hair products and elephants, for some strange reason — when the middle-aged princess from before approaches him again and stands between the two of them. Isak is somewhat thankful for her, because she's probably just saved him from the worst conversation starter _ever_ , and is also annoyed by how she's just interrupted his time with The Beautiful Man. (However, he's not so sure it would've gone too well. Isak thinks he probably would have stared at him for too long and freaked him out.)

 

He leads her out to the centre, dances around as best as he's able to while making polite conversation. Isak feels a little weird because she's definitely twice his age, and she was the one that showed interest in the first place, after all. Is it even appropriate for an age gap this big in the royal family? The princess speaks gently, though, in a soft tone that he knows could put him to sleep. When he stretches his arm and she steps away to afterwards spin into his arms, another arm stretches and a hand is placed on where their hands are linked.

 

Isak looks to the side and, of course, it's The Beautiful Man. The princess looks a bit dissatisfied with the interruption, and she steps back into Isak's space to press a kiss on his cheek before flitting to a group of girls that are clinking champagne glasses. 

 

The Beautiful Man bows, taking his hand carefully before standing straight. “Will you dance with me?”

 

“Erm,” he hesitates. Wouldn't it be weird for two males to dance with each other? Maybe it's not. He's danced around with Jonas before, and nobody'd given them weird looks. But he's pretty sure he's never looked at Jonas the way he's looking at this precious human being, so he knows that if the guests are clever enough, they'll sense something. 

 

“It's just a dance, no need to worry about what the rest will talk about,” he smiles, and then he presses his lips against the back of Isak's hand while looking at him. Isak shivers. “What have you got to lose?”

 

Isak can't help but nod at the words, holds onto his hand gently as they begin to dance together to the soft melody being played by the orchestra in the corner. 

 

“So, Your Royal Highness,” he says as they move around the room slowly, to the pace of the music. 

 

Isak hides his face a little, he can't help but think he's blushing. “I've always found it weird when they call me that. Isak's fine.”

 

“Okay, _Prince_ Isak,” he says with a grin before leaning closer to whisper in his ear, “I'm afraid someone will hear me not addressing you properly and will chop my head off in disrespect to the royal family.”

 

Isak snorts, “You know we aren't in the medieval times, right? No one is going to chop your head off because you didn't say Your Royal Highness or Prince in front of my name.”

 

“I'd prefer not to take the risk,” The Beautiful Man tells him with a coy smile before he spins Isak outwards and rolls him back into his arm with a pull on his hand. 

 

“Are you implying that I'm lying?” 

 

He shakes his head quickly, yet his face is still painted with a smile. “Of course not, Your Royal Highness.”

 

Isak rolls his eyes. Somehow, he knows The Beautiful Man is only repeatedly using that title to spite him. He's about to ask what his name is, when he feels someone pull on the edge of his penguin blazer. “What are _you_ doing here, little buddy?” he says, unwillingly letting go of The Beautiful Man's hands to pick up his dog. He smoothens down his hair as he lets Thor lick his chin. “I'm pretty sure you're not allowed out here right now,” he tells his dog and, yes, he's talking to his dog and probably embarrassing himself in front of The Beautiful Man. However, he's still standing in front of him when Isak lifts his eyes, and grinning down before lifting a hand and asking with his eyes if he can pet the dog. Isak nods, just as Thor leaps out of his arms and rushes towards a specific waiter with what seem to be chicken wings. 

 

He can't help but run after his dog, crouching down and running around, bumping into other guests as he follows Thor. Isak can basically see his mother shaking his head at him from the top of his head, can see her tutting and thinking of how she's going to tell him off afterwards. Thor appears to be enjoying the chase, runs faster and bypasses the waiter completely, heading for the door probably thinking Isak's playing with him. Magnus joins in on the chase somewhere between the front door and the pebbled road, cackling loudly and having to take a few stops to catch his breath. He's evidently not much use, and Isak thinks it might've been his own fault as he'd basically broken the wall between royalty and servant, and Magnus and he had become good friends in the palace.

 

Luckily, Isak manages to all but throw himself onto Thor before he can run onto the road, where someone seems to be just leaving in their car. He scratches his dog’s head as Thor tries to crane his head to lick his face.

 

“Dude,” he hears Magnus say as he approaches them both, extends a hand to help Isak up. He’s wheezing from all the laughter, and Isak wants to hit him on the side of his head. He keeps his hand on his dog. “That was the funniest shit I’ve ever seen. You should’ve seen yourself in the grand room, running around and leaving that guy behind with a perplexed look.”

 

He all but remembers how he’s just left The Beautiful Man behind, and how he had forgotten to ask for his name. Isak thinks about stepping in again, diving into a sea of embarrassment where guests will be whispering about how un-royal he is, and how he does not deserve to be on the throne after his mother. As if he didn’t already somewhat _know_ he wasn’t royal material.

 

Isak still prefers to be called anything but Your Royal Highness, enjoyed high school while he was still pretending to be normal, and enjoyed being able to go and grab a cup of coffee from a café, in a paper cup. Now, he gets his own servant who will get the coffee for him from the kitchen, from a china cup. He prefers to be spending his afternoons playing videogames in the Games Room, or playing around with Thor, or having a one-on-one football match with Magnus in the gardens. But, if he’s really, _actually_ , going to be king of Trivolia, he’s going to be stuck in Parliament sessions and meetings and going to visit places in the village to communicate to his people that he’s there for them. There won’t be as much free time as he’s got in his hands now; his schedule is going to be busy, busy, busy almost every single day of the year. No rest for the wicked. Or, in better words, no rest for the royal.

 

When Magnus opens the front door for him, Isak just shakes his head as he closes it shut. They stand quietly outside the palace’s doors for a while, the guards standing by the sides making him uncomfortable, even if he already knows their names and all – he’s pretty sure the left one is Matthias and the right one is Lance, but it’s pretty dark and it might actually be Karl. He heads towards one of the balconies and carries on petting Thor as he relaxes in his arms. His suit will definitely be covered in dog hair tonight.

 

“Is everything okay?”

 

Isak hums. “I think, I just don’t want to go in anymore.”

 

“It’s _your_ birthday party.”

 

“But it feels more like a party my mum organised for me to find my future wife,” he sighs loudly and looks up at the moon. It’s quiet and peaceful, and Isak wishes he could just bring out his mattress out onto the garden and sleep there, looking up at the stars perfectly contrasting with the sheet of dark sky. “I don’t even know if there’s going to be cake.”

 

“You’re serious?” Magnus is furrowing his eyebrows when Isak turns to look at him. “Your mum didn’t even ask for a cake flavour, or anything related to it?”

 

Isak shakes his head.

 

“Come on,” Magnus tells him, placing a hand on his shoulder after patting it sympathetically twice. “I’ll sneak you up to your room and, if there _is_ any cake, I’ll bring you up a slice.”

 

He nods with a smile, “Thanks. _Fifa_ tonight?”

 

“I’m down if you are,” he grins, turning them both towards the front doors before he quickly runs through how they’re going to make it to his room without being seen.

 

# #

 

 **KAROLINE** :

He disappeared off early in the night. Probably found a princess that was up to his standards?

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Oh, please! Stop pining over the Prince already, come on!

 

 **KAROLINE** :

I really am not! I just have a very good eye, and when the cake came out, he wasn’t even anywhere in sight! The Queen totally shushed the orchestra when they began to play _Happy Birthday_ on their instruments.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Well, at least he missed out on that Viscount’s speech about his nephew.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Do you mean the man who was going on and on about how his nephew is the next on the throne? He wasn’t giving a speech! He would’ve probably been murdered if that was the case! Going against the Queen and that… In some way…

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Oh, Karoline! Fine, it wasn’t a speech, but I’m pretty sure he’d been going around all night talking to the other guests about his nephew. I heard him talk about it four times during the night, to four different groups of people.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

I heard him go on about it _five_ times.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

This isn’t a game, Karoline.

[ _pause_ ]

Oh, wait! I heard him six. Definitely _six_ times.

 

# #

 

It’s not that he had roamed around the palace with the intention of being a nosy little boy – _ehem_ , _man_ –, he had just been… Exploring. The palace is so big, and he hasn’t really had the opportunity to fully find out what is hidden inside the massive building. He’d been here before, sure, but it had only been for his mother’s parties as he’d been stuck in boarding school for ages before _this_ , before finding out he wasn’t an orphan, but that he was a soon-to-be king, nonetheless. It had been a dramatic change of route, and he’s only been living with his mother for a few weeks, ever since he finally finished high school. It had been tough, but living with his mother – the _queen_ – was tough _er_.

 

And, he’s only just turned eighteen, so he’s allowed to wander around the palace, right? It’s not like someone is going to deny him because of the fact that he’s got royal blood running through his veins. However, he still hides whenever he hears footsteps approaching, whether that is behind the nearest pillar and walking around it to keep himself hidden, or hiding behind the nearest door he can reach. He’s already been inside the maids’ room – it had been a pretty awkward moment –, two of the seemingly many storage rooms inside the palace, and a very dusty room filled with mirrors that had almost scares the shit out of him. And that is how he finds himself in this predicament.

 

Isak had heard the tell-tale sign of his mother’s bodyguard’s footsteps ­– after listening out for them for so long through his first days, he’s learned how he walks with heavier steps than the rest – when he reaches for the nearest doorknob, twists it and steps inside, plunging into darkness. Isak listens quietly with bated breath to the bodyguard’s steps, listens to him walk past the door he’s hiding behind unknowingly before the sound of his footsteps fade away and Isak is unable to hear them anymore. He still stands quietly inside this abnormally cold room, feels a shiver run up his back and quickly reaches for his phone. Just in case he needs to dial Magnus for help. And for some extra illumination.

 

He holds up the screen of it to his surroundings, discovers that the floor is comprised of cobblestones and the walls are exposed bricks. He’s actually just at the entrance of whatever room this is. There is a small hallway that makes his turn left, and a small window just below the ceiling is thankfully illuminating this weirdly empty room. Isak keeps his phone on Magnus’ contact number just in case.

 

As he looks around the room, he hears muffled voices that almost scare the bejesus out of him. It cannot be ghosts or spirits. Can’t be. He doesn’t believe in them. He’s almost too scared to even press his ear on the wall where he thinks the voices are coming from, too scared that a deadly pale hand is going to reach out through the bricks and choke him to death. However, he does suck it up and approaches the wall ­– his head tilted back, though, who knows what may happen – and he can hear the voices clearer than before. In fact, he’s almost certain one of them belongs to his mother. He steps closer, not afraid anymore, and presses his face closer to the exposed brick. That specific one, even, the one he’s currently pressing his ear against, slides deeper into the wall, and he realises it’s loose. It’s a tricky situation, however, as if he pushes it deeper, he’s afraid it might fall on the other side and expose him as it breaks on the ground.

 

Isak sighs in frustration, but as he continues to press his ear against it, he sees another brick in the line of his vision be pushed forwards. They must somehow be linked. He jumps in elation, quickly pulling out the other brick and peeping into the hole it’s left in the wall. He spots his mother to his right, where the queen is usually sat at the front of the meetings room. Or, well, it’s better called the Parliament Hall, but Isak’s sure that it’s often used for simple staff meetings, too. There are two rows of men in golden, navy and black capes on the remaining three sides of the room, most of them wearing a white wig that makes them all somewhat equal-looking so there is no discrimination between them. The minority, however, are wearing navy and golden hats, which Isak assumes means they are of some sort of higher level in Parliament than the rest.

 

He keeps quiet, observing the meeting. The room seems very tense, and has been this way ever since Isak managed to get a sight of the hall. A man in a wig is standing up, staring at his mother with a furious look in his face. The rest of the people seem to be either looking down at invisible papers on their lap, or taking turns between turning their heads towards the man and his mother. Mum has a look on her face which he can’t exactly decipher, hasn’t ever seen it. He thinks it’s probably because he’s never been able to enter these sort of meetings, and that is probably her constant face expression when in these sessions.

 

“I hear you, Viscount,” his mother says calmly, “And I will gladly extend an invitation for you and your nephew to come live with us at the palace.”

 

Low murmurs rise in the room, people turning their heads to talk to their companions, and Isak can do nothing but stand there in confusion. The Viscount shakes his head, before he looks up and, even in the distance, Isak can see the anger and frustration in his eyes. “Your Majesty, I do not want your gratitude,” he laughs, but it sounds evil to Isak’s ears. He’s almost ready to make his presence known, magically fit through the tiny hole the brick has left in its absence, and punch the guy in the face. No one should be allowed to talk in such a manner to his mother. “I want justice for my nephew, and what will be the point in him living in the palace. Somewhere where he should be living as the owner, but instead will be seen as a guest?” He laughs again, maliciously, and Isak thinks it’s just to emphasise his malevolent personality.

 

He awaits anxiously for his mother’s response, holds his breath just like the room full of men is doing, too. Mum clears her throat, so incredibly loud in the silent and tension-filled room. “I will reiterate, you and your nephew are welcome at the palace until Isak’s coronation. You can accept or reject the invitation, it is up to you, Viscount. I have nothing more to say about this situation.”

 

His phone then rings loudly, at the most inopportune moment, and he reels his head back and rushes to push down the button to make it silent, shushing his phone as he does as if that could make any difference. He’s afraid to look back into the hole again, afraid he’s going to be met with another pair of eyes and be caught eavesdropping into a private parliament session. As he slides his thumb along his screen, he pushes the brick back into its place and quickly rushes out of the room and back into the hallway.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Where are you?”

 

Isak sighs and leans back against the nearest wall, his heart jumping at a thousand miles per hour. “I’m inside my own home, you doofus.”

 

Magnus makes a weird noise on the other line, “I _know_ that. Your house is pretty big.” Isak listens to him walk, his shoes tapping loudly against the marble floor. “Actually, will you talk again? I think I can hear you.”

 

“Huh,” Isak says, “Maybe that’s why I can hear you walk so loudly.” He listens to Magnus’ footsteps before he sees him around the corner, a look of relief when he spots him as he hangs up the phone and puts it in his back pocket.

 

“Where have you been?” Magnus says anxiously, quickly curling a hand around Isak's bicep and walking them along the hallway. “Your mum wants to talk to you.”

 

“Huh?” Isak doesn't even understand why his mother is already asking around to talk to him. He literally just saw her in the meetings room seconds ago. 

 

“She says it's serious,” they both turn quickly and Isak sees the angry Viscount rushing along the hallway. He seems to still be holding some anger from the meeting, probably stormed off. He looks to the side when he hears them, and Isak's almost thrown aback with the glare the Viscount sends his way. Magnus pulls him around another corner and Isak faces forward again.

 

They pace towards his room quickly and Magnus all but throws him onto his own bed. Isak wobbles backwards on the soft bed before gaining his footing and firmly planting his feet on the carpeted floor as he sits up properly. “Why do you seem so unusually anxious?”

 

“It's just,” Magnus paces back and forth in front of him once more before he plops down beside Isak in his bed. Obviously, if someone else were in the room he wouldn't be doing that — Magnus is his servant after all, but Isak thinks that title is truly insignificant. Magnus is his friend. His _only_ friend in the palace. “She made sure to tell me that she wanted me present, too. So, I'm nervous that I might get fired or something. She's never really requested my presence.”

 

Isak throws an arm around his shoulders. “Don't worry, Mags. I'm sure it's nothing. And,” he says seriously, “If it is, I'll put my foot down and say that because you technically are under my command, only I can fire you. Which will not be occurring any time soon.”

 

Magnus laughs and pats his thigh before sitting up, walking towards one of the armchairs and fluffing up the cushion. “Under _your_ command, my arse.”

 

“Hey,” Isak furrows his eyebrows. “I can be stern and bossy.”

 

“Of course, you can,” Magnus mumbles and. Well, he's not exactly wrong. Isak knows he's not the most authoritative person in the world, and the fact is that he doesn't have that much confidence in himself either. He doesn't know if he'll do a great job at ruling a whole country, but he very well will try his best at it. Hopefully, with the help of the Parliament and whoever he assigns to be his adviser, he'll do a fantastic job and his mother will be proud to have passed down the crown to him. Magnus seems to have noticed he's gone quiet and thoughtful, so he approaches Isak slowly. “Hey,” he places a hand on his shoulder and Isak looks up. “You're going to be a great king, okay? Your mum's going to train you during these days, how to do the whole being diplomatic and politically correct thing, and you're going to be great. Honestly. Hand on heart.”

 

Isak nods, but he's still very doubtful about how well he'll do. He's still thinking about all the different tasks a king should take on, and beating himself down about how he really can't do them all, when his mother steps into his room. Magnus quickly removed his hand and puts them both behind his back as he bows at her entrance before moving to stand to the side of the room. 

 

“Baby boy,” his mother says, with the sophisticated voice she has seemed to acquire through her ruling years, but still with a touch of familiarity and closeness. “I have something to tell you.”

 

Isak looks towards her, as bravely as he can, with eyes that mean business, just in case she can see right through him and sense his weaknesses. 

 

“I've invited a few guests over,” she says calmly, walking towards his walk-in closet. She raises a hand and motions for him to follow her in. Reluctantly, he stands up. He knows it's probably going to be the Viscount and his nephew. He knows, but he can't say because then his mother will find out he's been secretly running around the palace and going into places where he doesn't belong. “But I want to show you something first.”

 

They step into his closet, and he finds it has all been tidied up. He'd left it a mess this morning, and he's only been officially living in the palace for one week. All he's got is a friend and a dog to keep him company, and nothing much else to do. And, he knows it's a bit unusual, but all he's done really is try on the most outrageous clothes his mother had left in the closet while Magnus say in the sofa and critiqued every single outfit, as if he were a judge from some styling competition. 

 

“Okay, so this is one of the most important things you will see in your life,” his mother begins, leading him towards the far corner, where he hadn't ever noticed a door until now. “As you can see, it's hidden, but only for security purposes.” She takes a hold of his hand and places it over the top. Isak looks at his mum confused, but then almost jumps back when he sees a white bar shine through the wood and move from the tip of his finger to his wrist. Then, his mother removes the hand from him and the door opens. “This, baby, is going to be your crown.”

 

Isak thinks he might have actually gone into shock. The crown is fucking covered in diamonds and sapphires, and he knows how clumsy he can be, and he knows he's probably going to fuck it up when he gets crowned because he'll probably lean his head forwards a tad too much and the crown will fall right off and crash onto the ground, then the whole crowd will suck in a breath in sync, making it all ring louder in his ears and— 

 

A hand touches his shoulder and he jumps and turns in fear. “Isak? Are you okay, baby?” Without the need for him to say anything, his mother pulls him into his arms and rubs up and down his back with soothing strokes. She pushes back the hair that is flopping down onto his forehead and places a kiss on his hairline. “Are you nervous about becoming the king?”

 

He nods against her chest. 

 

“You don't have to be, baby. I'm not going anywhere, you know? I'll be by your side, to help you along the way. You don't have to do this by yourself,” she mumbles as they have a private moment. “But, I think I've got a surprise to cheer you up.” She pulls away and walks towards the wardrobe where he keeps his winter coats, sliding the door open. “Remember I said something about guests?”

 

He seems some ruffling and his coats moving before two pairs of hands stick out and he jumps back as two people jump out of his wardrobe. It takes him five seconds to recognise their faces, before all anxiety and fear is wiped off the insides of his body and happiness and elation has replaced them instead.

 

Isak steps towards them excitedly, arms wide open to bring them together into a three-way hug. “I can't believe you're here,” he says into the space between them, with a smile that hurts his face.

 

“We wouldn't miss your coronation for the world,” Eva squeals, just as Jonas says, “Where else would we be?”

 

He pulls back just to take another look at them, make sure they're actually there in the flesh. 

 

“I'm going to let you guys have some alone time. But please make sure to be in the cinema room an hour before lunch and the foyer at five,” his mother says before stepping away, but not before flashing a brilliant smile at his best friends.

 

Isak nods excitedly before stepping forward to wrap Jonas and Eva into another hug. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Hello? Did you not hear what I said before?” Eva says, a _duh_ clearly omitted. “Your mum invited us for your coronation.”

 

Jonas nods. “And we're going to be here every step of the way, so like...” He looks at Eva and raises his eyebrows.

 

She rolls her eyes and turns Isak towards his bedroom with an arm around his shoulders as she begins to count the duties up to his coronation on her free hand. “Like preparing you for that flaming ring thing, and learning how to ride a horse, and the constitutional day, of course.” 

 

Jonas follows them behind before they all spread themselves around his bedroom's seating area and he spots Magnus standing idly by the door. When Isak catches his eye, he motions for him to join them. 

 

“And your mother said we're here to help you find your future wife, too!” Eva suddenly says and Isak can't whip his head towards her fast enough.

 

He almost chokes on his own saliva. “What?”

 

Jonas looks at him carefully just as Magnus approaches them. “You gotta be married before you become king, man. It's the law, apparently.”

 

“It is,” Magnus says, and Isak decides his thankful for his approximation, as he can completely forgo talking about it and introduce his servant slash friend to his best friends.

 

Eva and Jonas are looking up at him weirdly from where they're both sat on the sofa together, their legs tangled in the middle. 

 

“Guys,” Isak says from his armchair as he motions for Magnus to sit down on the other one. “This is Magnus, my servant, supposedly, but he's more like a friend now more than anything. Magnus, Jonas and Eva.”

 

“Great to meet you guys,” Magnus says, actually extending a hand and shaking both of theirs before settling in the armchair. “I'm no ordinary servant, as you can see.”

 

He really doesn't look it. He's sitting in front of Isak, leaning his head back with his legs spread wide as him and Jonas start a conversation on the rapper that is on Jonas' t-shirt. If it weren't for Magnus' uniform, he really would look like a friend from home.

 

Isak feels a finger poke his hand and he shakes out of his reverie before following with his eyes the arm that is slowly retreating. 

 

“What's up with you?” Eva asks him quietly.

 

He shakes his head. He doesn't think he wants to worry her with his own problems and doubts. “Just tired,” he settles, closing his eyes and leaning his head back.

 

He thinks that Eva might join in on Magnus and Jonas' conversation — which has now turned into discussing video games — when he hears her speak again. “Is it about the whole wife thing? Because you've only just turned eighteen?”

 

Isak opens one eye to look at her before he closes it again. “Amongst other things.” Like how he's probably going to lead the country into complete bankruptcy and catastrophe, and how it's only been two days but his brain still can't seem to forget The Beautiful Man and he doesn't know what that means. 

 

Eva places her hand over Isak's at rubs it soothingly. When he opens his eyes, she's smiling at him sadly. “It's the law, Isak. No one can take the throne without being married.”

 

“But my mum is up there on her own right now,” he protests weakly.

 

She nods understandingly, “But she was once there with your dad. She can't help being a widow, Isak.”

 

He sighs and sinks further into the armchair. “I guess not.” He takes a deep breath and ponders over telling Eva about his... sexuality doubts. He doesn't know whether he likes females or not, or whether he likes males or not, or whether he likes both sexes. That might be a very important obstacle in his journey to being crowned king. “I think— No, never mind.” He bites at the bottom of his lip, just to keep himself quiet. Why say anything when he's not even sure himself?

 

Eva looks at him wearily but their moment is quickly broken by Magnus who has just been told lunch will be done in an hour, which means they're already late for his mother's _whatever_ to be in the cinema room.

 

# #

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

You know what I've been told, Karoline?

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Tell me, Brigitte, what have you been told?

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Well, I've heard that apparently the Prince is currently on the hunt for his future wife.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Are you serious?

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Yes! Because according to Trivolia's law of ascension, the king is to have a wife by his side when ascending to the throne.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Isn't that a bit diminishing?

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

In what sense?

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Well, the fact that you _need_ to be married to be king _or_ queen. It's as if the politicians didn't think you were able to do the job of ruling by yourself. And, it's diminishing to whoever isn't directly from royal blood, as they're just there as a pretty face or like a trophy. Sort of like a WAG but in a more royal rather than footballer sense.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

That's... Very political of you, K. I think we'll be leaving it at that.

 

# #

 

Jonas sticks his hand in Isak's lap and fumbles for more popcorn before grabbing a handful and popping it all in his mouth. 

 

“I think she's pretty,” Eva says from his other side, while they observe Princess Katrina from Belgium's profile. 

 

“She's alright,” Isak mumbles as he looks at her face. And, well, she _is_ pretty. But she doesn't make Isak feel butterflies fluttering in his stomach, bursting to come out, as much as The Beautiful Man did. His phone lights up and he sees Magnus' comment. They've been doing this since the beginning as Magnus, unable to have sat with them like a friend, has had to stand by the door like his mother's two servants. _Is it just me or does her smile look a bit sinister?_

 

Jonas, unknowingly, agrees with Magnus. “I think her smile seems a bit evil, doesn't it? Like she's planning something on the down low to take you down and rule the kingdom by herself.”

 

Isak can't see Magnus, but he knows he's probably nodding at Jonas' words.

 

“Maybe,” Eva says in a huff, before she grabs hold of the popcorn on Isak's lap and puts it on hers, probably just to spite Jonas. 

 

He turns towards his mother behind them. “Can we get another bowl of popcorn, please?”

 

His mother nods at him and clicks her fingers at her own servant. Isak hears the door shut behind her, just as his mother's adviser shows them the next slide.

 

“Princess of Monaco, Cecilia. She likes to play golf, explore the sea in her yacht and knows how to play the piano.”

 

“ _She_ has a _yacht_?” Eva blurts out, shocked.

 

“She looks ten,” Jonas says.

 

 _Man, this is a definite NO. No matter how interested I am in partying in her yacht,_ Magnus has sent him. Isak's pretty impressed how he hasn't been caught typing away on his phone already, but he guesses they're a bit less strict on him, as they probably know how close he is to Isak.

 

“Next,” they call at the same time, and Isak laughs at how in sync they are. Being best friends since they were six has definitely paid off. Twelve years later and they're still together, although Eva and Jonas are a couple and Isak does feel like he's a bit left put sometimes, but they're really good at intuition and they'll call for an impromptu hug whenever they feel Isak's stepping away, not wanting to become a third wheel.

 

The remote from the projector clicks and another slide pops up on the screen. “Duchess of Kent, Amelia. Enjoys reading books to children in library's reading times, has her own brand of collagen powders and her own brand of jewellery.”

 

“She is also forty-two though, so no. For the sanity of my son,” his mother says and Isak nods at her words. 

 

“Why is she even on the slides?” Eva wonders.

 

“That brand of jewellery is pretty successful. She's got a net worth of around a billion.”

 

“But she's old,” Jonas recoils, as if thoughts of her had just entered his mind and he shakes the image off. “Isak here needs a young soul.”

 

The adviser clicks for the next slide. “Next is Sofia, Duchess of York. Loves animals, has a charity dedicated to the preservation of those which are in danger, enjoys cooking and skiing.”

 

“She's fine, man,” Jonas says, clapping him on the back. 

 

Eva nods in agreement. “She's very pretty and sounds like she's probably a very kind person.”

 

He hears his mother hum under her breath, “She gets my stamp of approval, too. Only if you will accept her, too, baby.”

 

Isak ponders for a moment. He thinks she'd make an alright wife. It's more premeditated than he wanted his marriage to be, because he's got an actual choice from a range, as if he were a casting director in a film and was searching for the ideal main female role. He's never really been someone who gave much attention to his love life, never knew he would be a prince and a divorce would be frowned upon if he ever thought his first marriage wouldn't work. He knows that, by being in a royal marriage, the relationship would probably be based on political alliances instead of true love. Although, that may just have been the situation in the past...

 

Jonas bumps his elbow, raises a bushy eyebrow when Isak turns to look at him, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. “Is it gonna be the Yorkie?”

 

“Don't make her sound like a dog, Jonas,” Eva chastises from his other side.

 

Isak looks towards the screen again. If everyone that matters has approved of her, he might as well, too. He turns in his seat to look up at his mum. “When do I get to meet her?”

 

# #

 

 **KAROLINE** :

I think he's pretty cute, too.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

The nephew of the evil Viscount? How dare you. We're supposed to be on the Queen's side.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

I'm not taking sides! I just think he's very handsome.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Well, he's going to be living with the Queen and Prince Isak soon. She invited them to stay in the palace.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Is she crazy?

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Who knows? She might have a plan.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

I don't think I'll survive if we get a picture of him and the Prince together. Too much beauty in one picture.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Prince Isak and the Viscount?

 

 **KAROLINE** :

No! Prince Isak and the nephew.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

We really need to find you a boyfriend, honestly.

 

# #

 

“I just don't understand why you had the need to invite them over to live with us, Mamma,” Isak says, pacing the foyer as they wait for the Viscount's arrival, along with his nephew.

 

His mum reaches out to steady him and keep him by her side when he's in front of her. She rubs her hand up and down his arm and brings him to her side. “It's a cordial act.”

 

“He wants his nephew to take over _my_ position,” Isak says as he stomps one feet before he restrains himself from further sounding like a petulant child. “Do you have like a plan? Like the whole _keep your friends close but your enemies closer saying_? Are you going to ruin his reputation so he'll be embarrassed to even be opposed to my coronation?”

 

She shakes her head fondly, kissing him on his forehead before smiling. “Nothing like that. I'm just inviting them over so they can experience how it is to live like a royal. It’ll only be for two months.”

 

“Isn't that a bit mean?” He furrows his eyebrows and looks ahead at the great front doors. “You're showing them something they won't be able to have.”

 

“It might be better than not having it at all.”

 

It's then when the doors burst open, and Isak hurries to step away from his mother and straighten himself up, fix his blazer and fix his fringe, making sure it's properly parted and there are no stray hairs on wrong sides. He stands like he's been taught to, his hands clasped behind his back, his feet slightly apart, his head held high but his chin slightly tipped down. 

 

The Viscount enters, still with that ruddy-like face, but he manages to smile and extend his hand when he steps in front of his mother. Isak is currently staring behind him, at his nephew who's just entered the door because. Well. 

 

He feels his mother discreetly bump her elbow into his side as he flicks his eyes towards the Viscount, who is currently standing in front of him, hand between them waiting. Isak quickly apologises, reaching to shake his hand. He can see the disapproval in his face, can feel the anger in his strong handshake. 

 

But Isak can't think about anything else aside from the fact that The Beautiful Man is currently greeting his mother and is the evil Viscount's nephew, the one who's supposedly the next in throne instead of himself. He feels betrayed by him, even if their conversation at his birthday _had_ been short — now that he recalls it, he doesn't think he even said _Happy Birthday_ to him on the night —, he could've been upfront and said, _by the way, my uncle and I are actually supposed to be living here soon, not you._ But apparently, he's very beautiful but not very courageous. Isak feels like he has to punish him somehow, for not saying anything to him when he had the chance to, and for not congratulating him for being eighteen. 

 

When he steps in front of him, he's grinning, as if the fact that he wants his crown is no reason to be enemies. As if there wasn't an underlying rivalry between them for the crown, even if there is no competition at all and Isak _will_ be crowned king. The Beautiful— Well, no. He'll be calling him Brute now, in his mind. Because of his betrayal. 

 

“Your Royal Highness,” he takes a bow which makes a strand of his hair fall from his perfectly fluffed quiff, and when he stands back up again, it's beautifully perched on the centre of his forehead. Isak may be tempted to call Magnus to get him some scissors so he can chop the strand off immediately. “I'm Even Bech Næsheim.”

 

Isak looks at the hand he's extended between them, waiting to be shaken. He bravely pushes his hand down with his own and raises his chin, just like his mother had never told him to do because it looks like you're diminishing the other person. “Et tu, Brute?”

 

 _Even_ is still contently looking at him, but his smile has fallen a little and there a single wrinkle between his eyebrows.

 

“Isak!” His mother shouts, scandalised by his action, but he just swiftly turns around on the heels of his shoes and quickly walks away towards his bedroom. He can hear the running footsteps from Magnus who is surely following behind to catch up with him. 

 

He claps his hand again Isak's shoulder when he's by his side, and they equally take long steps to reach his room faster. “What happened back there?”

 

Isak shakes his head. He can't tell Magnus, he's never told anyone about how he sometimes dreams about touches and skin, and how it's not necessarily with a female. “It's nothing. I just danced with him at my party and he was a total douchebag.”

 

“Really? He doesn't look it,” Magnus says, but fixes his face almost right after, “But if you say so, well. Hey, I'm on _your_ side, bro.” He squeezes Isak's shoulder once as they step into his room. “Always.”

 

“Thanks, Mags,” Isak says, giving him a sincere smile before wiggling away and throwing himself onto his own bed, his forearms thrown on his face in order to block the light. “I don't know how I'm going to live with that guy.”

 

“It's a pretty big palace,” he hears Magnus say, “You may not even bump into him.”

 

“Hopefully,” Isak mumbles, though he gets a sudden rush in his body at the thought of actually bumping into him, feeling Even's touch again... He lifts his index and middle finger up, not bothering to see whether Magnus is looking, and he twists them. “Fingers crossed.”

 

# #

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

There they are! Ah, the happy couple. Very sudden and surprising, I may add.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Oh, leave them be! Look how happy the Prince looks! I don't think I've ever seen him smile so brightly at anyone.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

He's looking at her more than he's looking at the animals themselves! On a safari!

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Ah, young love. How beautiful it is.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

I'm pretty sure she's going to be the lucky one. They've already been seen out together for a whole week! Plus, the Prince's coronation is coming up, and you know the law...

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Yes, yes, yes. He must get married before ascending to the throne. It's no news to our audience, B.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Okay, okay... Oh! What is that? Is that a—

 

 **KAROLINE** :

He's kneeling! He's kneeling down! The Prince is about to propose!

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

On a safari! How romantic! Is she going to say yes? Do you think she will?

 

 **KAROLINE** :

How can anyone say no to that face?

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Oh my gosh!

 

 **KAROLINE** :

They're engaged! Breaking news: Prince Isak is engaged to Sofa, Duchess of York!

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Oh, how fantastic! A royal wedding. I better go find a dress adequate for the event.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Oh, please. Your wardrobe is already bursting with silky gowns, you don't need any more.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

I will buy more if I want to.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Anyway. Many congratulations to our Prince Isak on his royal engagement. May everything be well and long-lasting with you two.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

In other news, the Mayor has also announced the name of his new-born, which is also Sofia.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Coincidence? I think not.

 

# #

 

“You look really nice in that colour,” Isak compliments Sofia, who's dressed in a baby blue sundress for a short television interview.

 

She's on the make-up chair, getting her hair done. “Thank you, Isak,” she says with a brilliant smile, reaching out her hand to hold onto his and squeeze it once in thanks. “Have you gone through the questions?”

 

He nods and looks at her through the mirror. Isak's pretty sure he's bothering the hair stylist because he's standing so close to Sofia's side, but she'll have to work around it. He doesn't mean to be rude, but he _is_ the Prince. “They're all pretty simple to answer. And you do know they might ask something that isn't on the list, right?”

 

Sofia hums under her breath and thanks the stylist quietly when she's done and leaves them both alone. Isak slips his hand under her hair to smooth his thumb up and down her neck in a soothing motion. “I've been media-trained by my people in England, don't you worry.”

 

“Okay, I was just making you aware. Also, people from here tend to be very nosy, but in a way, you won't find very intrusive. And by people, I mean Brigitte and Karoline. They're pretty much _the_ television icons in Trivolia,” Isak says with a smile, holding out his hand and helping her out of the seat.

 

They walk together along the hallway, heading to the interview room hand-in-hand. 

 

“I've seen some snippets of them interviewing others,” Sofia nods, “My advisor told me to look up videos of them on YouTube to, like, acquaintance myself with their ways.”

 

“I understand,” Isak says, opening the door before her in a very gentlemanly way.

 

Once they're both seated in front of the lights and around four cameras set up at different angles, Brigitte and Karoline step into the room, fluttering about and bringing in a rush of excitement and noise with them.

 

Both of them apologise for being late, even if they had just stepped in a few seconds after them, but Sofia calmly smiles at them and says it's fine. 

 

Isak flashes them a smile he hopes comes off as truly genuine, just as he sees Even stroll past the open door of the interview room, before one of the camera man closes it to give them some privacy.

 

# #

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

We're here with the happy couple! How great is this?

 

 **KAROLINE** :

We're extremely excited to be talking to you right now.

 

 **SOFIA** :

It's a pleasure, really.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

How did you two meet?

 

 **SOFIA** :

Well, our parents kind of just set up a date for us without us having met before, and we went to this rainforest-themed restaurant and had dinner and talked.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

And it went well, I'm assuming?

[ _glances at her engagement ring obviously_ ]

 

 **ISAK** :

Yes, very well.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

And you don't think that it's much too fast? We know you're only eighteen, just recently turned, too. But, I mean, the marriage law has been on everyone's lips lately.

 

 **ISAK** :

I think that... Sometimes, when you know, you know... You know?

[ _laughs_ ]

I mean, sure, we've only known each other for a short amount of time, but I think that, if you feel a natural ease and connection with the other person, sort of like a pull of attraction towards the other, you just have to take a brave step forwards and make it a long-term thing.

 

 **SOFIA** :

Exactly. And what better way to make it a long-term thing than a marriage?

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Definitely. And show us that ring! I don't think it's been photographed for any of the magazines yet, right?

 

 **SOFIA** :

Oh, no. I think we're both quite private people, so we like to avoid being exposed to cameras as much as possible. Obviously, you're an exception.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Oh, we feel so flattered!

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Karoline here has got a massive crush on you, Isak.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Brigitte!

 

 **ISAK** :

[ _laughs_ ]

Now I'm the one that's flattered, coming from such a wonderful woman like yourself.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

She will be dreaming of those words for months, now. I can assure you that.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

So, have you made any wedding plans yet? Dived into the preparation?

 

 **SOFIA** :

Not just yet. We've got a few things to sort out before, like Isak's first coronation ritual tomorrow and then the Wein Andersen Summer Party, or WASP as I like to call it, next week. After that, I think I will be getting my brain into action while Isak further prepares for his coronation.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Ah yes, it's a shame we're not invited to the WASP.

 

 **ISAK** :

Are you not?

 

 **KAROLINE** :

It's a non-media event, unfortunately. Which you could definitely change for next year, when you become king.

[ _winks_ ]

 

 **ISAK** :

[ _laughs_ ]

I will keep that in mind.

 

# #

 

The very second Isak steps into his shoes, he knows something is wrong with them. However, he'd woken up today with a funny feeling in his stomach, and he's had it all morning, so he thinks he's probably just coming with a stomach-ache or similar. 

 

When he'd voiced his concerns to the Viscount when they had passed each other on the hallway, he had kindly asked what was wrong with him and offered medicine to help settle his stomach. Isak had gratefully thanked him and downed the bitter liquid, thinking the Viscount might not be so awful after all — it was just his nephew he had a grudge with. 

 

However, now that he had proceeded to run towards the foyer, because he is late for their entrance and his mother's speech to the people about this being the first step towards his coronation, he feels his stomach gurgle in a strange way. Isak ignores it, in favour of reaching the foyer on time for when the doors open and they all step out in sync, and clutches his stomach in hopes that it will settle it down.

 

He arrives on time — _just_ — and just as his mother is approaching the end of her speech, and is ready to present him towards the public, he feels like he can't help it anymore. Isak bends down suddenly, and retches. He hears his mother stop abruptly, and he hears her gasp through the speakers. There's murmurs going around in the crowd, but all Isak can do is continue to empty his stomach in front of hundreds of people, and those who have tuned it to their local television channels. 

 

When Isak looks down at the mess he's made, he doesn't have the guts to even stands up straight, to not be slightly covered by the low railing of their balcony anymore. So, he does probably the thing no other prince has ever done in this whole century, or _ever,_ and walks with his back bent and his arms dangling by his side back into the palace. The moment he turns the corner and knows he isn't being filmed by a hundred cameras, he stands up straight and all but runs towards the cinema room, where it'll be dark and he won't be able to see any parts of himself, won't be reminded of how much of a humiliation he'd presented himself as to his country. 

 

Isak's never really been a person to cry, but this time, as he brings his legs up and pushes his face between his knees with a horrible taste on his tongue, he lets the tears fall. He's truly not royal material, and his own country is probably going on about second-hand embarrassment and, if he's honest, Isak's not even surprised. He knows he wasn't bred to be a prince, even less a king, but he doesn't know how to reject an honour like this, doesn't know how to say no to his own mother. Someone who's watched him grow up from the side lines and he's just discovered a few years ago. All he really wants right now is a bottle of water he can down in three, long gulps, and get rid of this horrid, lingering taste already. 

 

It's then when the door creaks open, and he's about to tell whoever it is to fuck off, but he keeps the words to himself because he doesn't want to worsen his reputation even more. And, if it were his mother, he doesn't want to disappoint her further.

 

He feels a hand on his arm, and he wants to immediately push it off, tell whoever it is to leave him alone, but he just turns his head to the other side and hopes that says enough. The person doesn't seem to get the message and stays put beside him, hand on his arm.

 

“I've got you some water,” the person says, and Isak hates himself for immediately pinning that voice to Even. 

 

Isak sniffs, something loud and embarrassingly snotty, “Go away.” He pauses, thinking of what Even's just said, ignores how he knew what Isak needed at this moment in time and adds, “But leave the water.”

 

Even laughs, and it's loud but at the same time very soft-sounding. Isak wants to ignore the flutter in his stomach once again, but he just throws his head back on the chair with his eyes closed and clutches his stomach with both hands. “Drink some, it'll make you feel better.”

 

Isak opens one eye to peak a look at him in the dark room. He can just see the shadow of his head and his hair, and he's extremely tempted to brush his hand along it, then pretend like it was an accident and blame it on the unlit room. “It's just water?”

 

“Pure water, one hundred percent. From the Alps, I think,” Even says. Isak feels a cold plastic bottle pressed against his hand, and he lets one arm go from his stomach and takes it, definitely not revelling in the way Even's hand feels against his as they touch for a short second. 

 

Isak takes two long gulps immediately, the sound of the water bottle cracking and the water sloshing being the only noise in the otherwise silent and empty room. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and caps the bottle. “Your uncle gave me medicine earlier,” he says as a passing thought. “I don't know if it made my stomach-ache worse or better.” Even stays silent, decides not to respond apparently, so Isak continues. “My breakfast pancakes tasted very weird this morning. Think it might have been those that made me ill. Might have a bit of food poisoning, which is just fantastic.”

 

“I didn't get breakfast pancakes,” Even decides to say after a long pause, and Isak wants to slap himself by the way he can hear the pout in his voice. 

 

“As you have heard, I'm pretty sure that's what made me get food poisoning. So, you were lucky.”

 

“Maybe if i'd gotten them as well, we'd have been two people throwing up in front of the cameras, and I may have been able to take off some of the attention from you.”

 

“That's,” he clears his throat. “Nice,” Isak finished in a raspier tone, and he opens the bottle again to down what's left of it. 

 

He listens to Even lean on the seat beside him, and he can feel how his eyes aren't on him anymore. Their arms touch on the armrest they're sharing, and Isak thinks he can feel the heat of his body, even through the layers of cotton.

 

“You know,” Even says so suddenly, it makes Isak jump in his seat. Even chuckles at it softly, before Isak feels Even's hand press against his. Then, he feels his pinky lift, before settling between Isak's ring and little finger. “I think that you—”

 

The door bursts open and someone turns the light on, just as Isak brings his arm down to his own lap and squeezes his eyes shut at the sudden burst of light. 

 

“I've been trying to find you for _ages_ ,” Magnus whines, “Your mother told me to tell you that she wants you to know she's neither angry nor disappointed in you.” Isak knows his face has probably twisted into something that shows he doesn't truly believe it when Magnus continues, “She knows how you can get after whenever you feel like you've done something wrong in her presence.”

 

“I'd better go,” Even says from his side, and Isak can only nod in response before he settles back again on his seat and waits for Magnus to approach him like he knows he will.

 

He listens to Even's footsteps as they fade away before the door creaks shut again, and he opens his eyes to see Magnus by his side.

 

“Man, are you okay?”

 

Isak nods, “I'm chill.”

 

“Yeah, you sure look it.”

 

He opens his eyes, just so he can evidently show Magnus how he's rolling his eyes before closing them again. “I've been better, but I'm okay now.”

 

“I've brought you some water. Or, some more, I suppose.”

 

Isak gratefully takes the glass of cold water Magnus has brought with him, and presses the rim to his lips. “Thanks.”

 

“So,” he says while he's drinking, “A bit friendlier towards Even, I suppose?”

 

He shrugs, not really knowing how to respond. “He may mot have been that much of a douchebag just now.”

 

Magnus nods with a smirk, like he knows something that Isak doesn't, but he doesn't expand on it. “How was the interview yesterday?”

 

“It went fine. Did you know one of the presenters has a crush on me?” 

 

Magnus cackles out loud and Isak glares at him. “You're saying that like you're proud of it.”

 

He huffs loudly and places the glass underneath his feet. He hopes he'll be able to remember it when they leave. “Can I not be?”

 

“No, of course you can.”

 

“Where even were you yesterday? This guy just appeared in my room and said he was your substitute for the day.”

 

“It was my little sister's birthday yesterday, so I took the day off,” Magnus' eyes glint at the end of the sentence as he continues with an elbow bump, “What, did you miss me too much?”

 

Isak rolls his eyes, but he can't help the smile that stretches across his lips. Sure, Jonas and Eva are fun as hell, but they've got their own room and Isak's not an awful friend so he gives them their alone time. “Sure.”

 

“That was not a very convincing sure, but I could hear the convincing part of it.”

 

“That didn't even make sense!”

 

“ _You_ don't even make sense.”

 

“Fantastic comeback, dude.”

 

# #

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

I thought they were so nice. However, although I really want to believe it's completely real and I want to believe in the whole true love thing where you propose around one week after meeting, I don't know if this is more of an accommodating proposal rather than a romantic one.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

B, you can't say that on live TV!

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

I can, and I have.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Okay, then why do you think so?

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Actions speak louder than words, right? And I don't particularly think our prince is very much an actor.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

I think I'm going to have to re-watch the interview. I thought he was quite marvellous.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

You only think so because of your little crush.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

You really need to start dropping that.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Oh, come on, you know I'm only joking, Karoline. You're my best friend.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Anyway, in other news, the Viscount's nephew has been photographed several times outside the palace having a smoke. And he looks good while doing it.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

That I agree with, although I'm not sure of the whole smoking habit. Isn't that very unroyal-y?

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Is that a new word you've created?

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Yes, and I take full credit for it.

 

# #

 

Shawshank Redemption is on the television in one of the many living rooms in the palace, and Isak's laying on one side of the sofa, feet propped up on the coffee table in front. The rest of the sofa has once been occupied by Jonas and Eva, but they'd gone off for an early night, wanting to rest before the WASP tomorrow. 

 

The film hasn't even reached the half point mark, but Isak's never been a person to stop midway, even if it were a shit film. Well, not exactly shit. He very much loves it, but he pretends to hate it because it seems like a very pretentious film, something that a film fanatic would probably love and adore, make a shrine to it because it's that important. He doesn't want to be considered one of those film fanatics, so he pretends to be against the norm. Makes him feel special.

 

It's when Andy received his very first library donation when he turns his head to watch Even join him on the other end of the sofa, his eyes fixated on the screen.

 

He sighs heavily, and Isak forces his eyes to move back to the television. 

 

“I love this movie,” Even says just as Isak opens his mouth to say _I hate this movie_. When Even turns his head to look at him, Isak tries his best to keeps his eyes on the screen. “Why are you watching it if you hate it?”

 

“Because,” Isak exasperates, glancing at Even, “Well, I don't have to explain myself to _you_!” He crosses his arms over the blanket that's covering his lower half and sinks further down the sofa.

 

Even laughs softly, and it's such a precious sound that it makes Isak want to give him everything he's got, if only to hear him laugh again. “Okay, okay. Let's just sit here and watch a film you hate, then.”

 

Isak huffs loudly, to further demonstrate his fake displeasure, but nods anyway at Even's words. He doesn't really mind the company, even if he's pretending — and very much forcing himself — to hate Even for what his intentions in the palace are. Isak _is_ a person who has been lonely for most of the time, and living in a massive palace with his friends back at home has just made his life even lonelier. So, he's glad for the company, even if it's in the shape of a beautiful man who is also out to steal his crown. However, he thinks he needs to show how displeased he is by Even's mere presence, so he lets out annoyed little huffs throughout the film, but doesn't miss the way Even's lips twitch at the sounds he's making.

 

“Have you read the book it's based on?” Even asks quietly and, great, he's a bookworm, too. All Isak has ever read are the back of DVD cases and video game reviews on the Internet. If there were a scoreboard for who between the two of them is more royal-like, the score would now be 1-0, in Even's favour.

 

Isak huffs to signal that he doesn't care about whatever Even's going to say next.

 

Even rudely ignores him, which makes Isak huff once again when Even continues to speak over the film. “Well, in the book, Andy smuggles into jail one hundred dollars up his bum, which is how he pays Red for the hammer.”

 

He wiggles his nose at the small fact, but takes a quick peak at Even's face. He's got a bright smile on his lips, as if it's the funniest thing in the world that a person about to go to jail would stuff his bottom with a one-hundred-dollar bill. 

 

“I think,” Even begins again when Andy is telling Norton someone else has confessed to the murders he's been convicted to, “That it's so amazing how this movie is so critically acclaimed, even if there's no action and no special effects.”

 

Isak rolls his eyes, leans his head on the back of the sofa and turns to take another glance at Even because he can't help himself. “It's just a bunch of people in prison uniforms talking to each other.”

 

Something in Even's eyes light up, and he turns to stare Isak straight in the eye. “Exactly! It's just a bunch of men in prison uniforms talking to each other. And it's one of the best films ever created.” Then, after a short pause. “Don't you think Andy's a little hot? I think I had this weird crush on him when I first saw Shawshank.”

 

Isak almost chokes on air, because it's not like he's ever loudly commented on a man's looks, but Even says it with so much indifference, without knowing how significant that throwaway comment is to Isak. “What?”

 

“I think he's cute. He seems like he's always got this deer caught in headlights look through the film, and it's cute,” Even explains, and his hand is gesturing around as he speaks, like it's necessary to reinforce his point. Isak thinks _that's_ cute. “Morgan Freeman's got a big nose, doesn't he?”

 

Isak lets out an awfully embarrassing sound, before he coughs to cover up the fact that he just snorted. He keeps his hand pressed against his mouth to hide the fact that he's smiling.

 

“You know what the group name ‘The Sisters’ reminds me of?” Instead of replying and giving Even the pleasure of distracting Isak from the film, he keeps his eyes trained on the screen, but tilts his head to one side as if actually asking _what does it remind you of?_ “ _Hey sister, go sister, soul sister, go sister!_ ” He sings loudly, making Isak jump in his seat and have to cover his burst laughter with the weirdest, loudest cough ever, snapping his fingers with an imaginary beat. “I saw you smile!” Even boasts, shuffling closer to Isak on the sofa and pressing close, as he tries to uncover Isak’s mouth, his hand on Isak’s trying to remove it. “Come on, show me you’re not always the grump you pretend to be around me.”

 

When Isak feels like himself again, has calmed down both his laughter and breath, he lets Even’s hand finally remove his, and he schools his facial expression into the most serious one ever. He watches Even pout at how unhappy he looks, figuring out he was wrong, and Isak has to slip his own hand underneath his thigh so that he’s sitting on it instead of allowing it to feel the glistening bottom lip with his fingers.

 

“This can’t be right,” Even murmurs, and it sounds like he’s saying it more to himself that anything, before he sticks both hands out and pushes the ends of Isak’s lip upwards with his fingers. This time, Isak can’t help but feel the laughter bubble up again, and he breaks into an easy smile as Even cheers and runs his fingers down his jaw and back to his own lap. “There it is.”

 

Isak coughs, tries to get serious again because he’s supposed to _hate_ Even not like the guy who is wanting to get his nice-looking fingers on his crown and his kingdom. When he’s finally back to who he is supposed to be, Isak shuffles away from Even and presses himself against the armrest on his side, trying to convey the message that he wants Even to move back to where he was sat before – on the other end of the sofa. “I hope you took a picture, because you’re not getting any more smiles from me any time soon.”

 

Even says nothing in response, but he shuffles away like Isak had implied him to, and Isak can’t help but feel a little cold and a little lonely, and a little bit angry at Even for having been able to read the message so well.

 

# #

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

I can’t believe no media is invited to the greatest royal party of the year. This is unfair.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Well, in reality… _Se og Hør_ is invited.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Really?

 

 **KAROLINE** :

It’s for photographic purposes. I mean, wouldn’t it be a shame to get all dressed up for a summer party, only for no pictures to be released to the public?

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

It would be a shame… Though, it is truly unfair that _we_ aren’t invited. Why is there no need for two of the best TV hostesses to interview some of the guests?

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Because then it wouldn’t be necessarily a private affair. I mean, the photographers are not allowed to interact with any of the guests, under no circumstances, nor film anything with their cameras. If they’re caught, I’ve heard that they might even be thrown out of the country!

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Please, Karoline, don’t exaggerate. There’s no need for hyperbolic rumours to be thrown around our programme.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Sorry, sorry, I apologise.

_[sotto voce]_

I _have_ heard it from someone who works in the security royal team though.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Tell me all about it when the cameras are off.

 

# #

 

“And with that,” Wein Andersen says into the microphone — the socialite who invented this party thirty years ago to commemorate the inauguration of Trivolia's greatest art gallery —lifting up his glass of champagne, “I can only say: let's get this party started!”

 

Some of the rowdiest royals and upper class members holler and cheer, while Isak claps politely before taking a large gulp of his white wine. He winces at the taste, prefers beer to this, but according to his mother it's not ‘posh’ enough for a royal. Sofia's hanging off his arm, sipping on her glass of champagne elegantly while her eyes roam around the garden. 

 

“Do you have a rose garden here?” she asks absentmindedly.

 

Isak thinks of the answer. Thinks again, racks his brain, digs into it with a shovel to try and discover what the answer's supposed to be. He hasn't even been out to see the garden ever since coming back from high school. “I actually don't really know,” he says apologetically, shrugging and removing her hold from his arm simultaneously. He takes another gulp of wine and squeezes his eyes at the taste. It truly just tastes horrible.

 

“How come?” 

 

He shrugs again, letting his eyes flitter behind her head and, as he does, he spots Even with a pretty girl hanging from his arm near the pyramid of champagne glasses. Unknowingly, he furrows his eyebrows at the sight, but glances back at Sofia when he remembers he's talking to her. He clears his throat before speaking. “I just haven't managed to get around much since I returned. We can check it out if you want?” Isak doesn't really want that, but he'll do it for good impressions. All he really wants to do is sneak behind Magnus tending by the bar and ask him if he can get him a beer from the staff kitchen. 

 

“Do you want to?” She asks in a tinkly voice, and Isak can't tell if he's slightly irritated or endeared by it. He feels like sometimes, he's got mixed feelings about Sofia, but she seems fantastic in everyone else's eyes.

 

He doesn't know how to answer the question properly, has never really been a good actor — he always seems to fall through last second and his cover gets blown — and he takes another peak at where the pyramid of glasses is, and sees Jonas and Eva throwing grapes into each other's mouths. They're probably not the most formal guests in the list, but they don't tend to attend parties like these anyway, so he can only hope his mother understands and writes them off if they happen to make a mess during the afternoon. When he doesn't see Even anywhere, he thinks it might be for the best. Out of sight, out of mind.

 

“Isak?” 

 

He blinks his eyes and looks back at Sofia, “Sorry, Sof. I just— Was just—.” He apparently can't think of anything else to say, and he thinks the words are truly just stuck in his throat when he's relieved someone else has joined the conversation. However, when he sees who it is, his mood doesn't exactly alter to content. 

 

“Hello, I don't actually think we have properly met,” Even says, extending a hand to Sofia as she looks at it cautiously. “I'm Even.”

 

Sofia takes his hand and shakes it slowly. “I know who you are,” she says, not in a polite way, yet not in a rude way either. “You're the one who thinks he's supposed to be the next king.”

 

Even laughs awkwardly as they let go of each other's hands. “Yes, I'm him, but I'm not exactly the first one that's signed that particular petition.” That sentence makes Isak furrow his eyebrows, look at him curiously as he tries to decipher what the words mean. Even's lips quickly stretch into a brilliant and bright smile as he introduces the girl beside him. “This is Ariana,” he says, before his eyes flash to Isak's, “She's my cousin.”

 

He doesn't understand why, but Isak feels a little lighter at those words. He breaks into a polite smile and extends his own hand to greet Ariana.

 

“This is incredible,” she says shakily with a wobbly smile, “It's so surreal to be shaking your hand. Or like, even being in your presence.”

 

Isak flushes, has never really been comfortable when people treat him as if he's someone of a higher class, because he doesn't like being that. He just wants to be normal, like how he feels whenever he's with Magnus or Jonas or Eva. It feels like they're all equally just normal. Technically, with Even, he sort of feels the same, too. 

 

“You have a beautiful garden,” Ariana continues, eyes widening as she looks around them and waves a hand. “Do you have any roses? I just absolutely adore them. And the smell! If I had one wish, it would be to smell like roses forever,” she finishes with a sigh and a hand on her chest.

 

Even chuckles next to her and squeezes the top of her arm, he looks at Isak, who's a bit surprised by how talkative Ariana had been. “She talks when she's nervous.”

 

Ariana nods solemnly, “That is unfortunately true, it's like I can't manage to keep my mouth shut and it's truly a curse. I mean—,” she stops just as Even squeezes her upper arm again and she soughs before breaking into a smile that reminds Isak of Even's. 

 

From beside him, Sofia chirps up, “Maybe you'd like to come with me to explore? I was hoping Isak would join me, as he apparently has no idea himself if he's got any roses growing anywhere, but he doesn't seem to want to.”

 

“Oh my gosh!” Ariana says, clapping her hands once in excitement. “I would love to!”

 

Both girls nod in goodbye and walk off, heading in the direction of one of the gazebos. Isak looks at them go for a while, before he's shaken from his reverie when Even clears his throat loudly. Isak whirls around and looks up at him. 

 

“I apologise on her behalf,” Even says with a small smile, holding a glass of—

 

“Is that beer?” Isak asks, ignoring Even's unnecessary apology. Ariana wasn't out of line — not for him, anyway — so it was completely fine. He doesn't require as much formality as his mother would, and it's not like he speaks formally anyway, only if he needs to. 

 

Even looks down at his glass, as if he had to check what it was, “Yes? Why?”

 

“Can I take a quick sip?” 

 

He raises his eyebrows, “You're serious?”

 

“Why wouldn't I be?” Isak asks, confused, furrowing his eyebrows together but keeping his eyes remotely focused on the beer — and the way Even's fingers look wrapped around the glass. He shakes his head and looks up.

 

Even's tilting his head to one side, nodding at Isak's glass. “Why didn't you just get your own beer?”

 

“My mum won't let me,” Isak says, and he can hear the slightest hint of annoyance in his voice, which frustrates him. He doesn't want to sound like a child — more than his words already have, anyway — and he's annoyed at himself for sounding like he's whining. 

 

He hears Even chuckle before he speaks again. “Aw, is The Little Prince not getting his own way? Want to drink what the grown ups are?”

 

Isak looks at him in annoyance, just before he huffs and walks off with his own glass through the labyrinth in their garden. Which, the former action reinforced Even's claim of him _not being_ a grown up, and the latter was just a complete, utter mistake. He hears his own shoes against the gravel, as he tosses his remaining wine into the bushes before turning left and right and right again, hoping he won't encounter a dead end.

 

“You aren't angry at me, are you?” he hears a voice ask from behind him, and Isak groans at the fact that he wasn't quick enough to lose him. He just wants some time alone. To think about how much of his life his mother is currently controlling, and if he likes the fact that she is and to what extent. That whole thing requires some very long and serious Isak Thinking Time, and he knows that Even's presence will make him lose sight of that. He knows how distracting Even can be, even if he'll never admit it out loud, in fear of what that might mean.

 

Isak stops in his tracks and swiftly turns around, not knowing how close Even is until they're almost chest to chest. He takes a step back just to put some space between them before he speaks, “So what if I am? Am I not allowed to be?”

 

“It was just a dim joke,” Even says, inching closer, his movement obvious in the way the gravel crunches under the sole of his shoe. “Forgive me.”

 

He huffs once again, before walking off, turning left and right, as he reaches a large fountain. Isak figures that this is probably the centre of the labyrinth, so now he just has to find his way out. Maybe he can find Magnus and ask him to slip him inside the palace. He doesn't think he's in the mood for this dumb summer part anyway. 

 

“Isak,” he hears Even say as he sits down on the edge of the fountain, his arms crossed over his chest as he tucks his now empty glass under his arm. “I know you can drink alcohol; you just turned eighteen,” Even takes a seat beside him and Isak obviously shuffles away from him. He points at his empty glass and says, “You were just drinking wine in public!”

 

“It's not _that_!” Isak exasperates and, honestly, can he sound any more like a bratty child? There is no way he can manage to explain to Even why he's annoyed like this, and it's not like he owes him an explanation. They're not even friends, he's sure of it. Just because they watched most of Shawshank Redemption together once doesn't mean they're magically best friends now. 

 

Even shuffles closer to him once again, and Isak restrains himself from moving away. He knows how it would go if he did, seems to already know what Even would do, even if he knows him so little. “What is it, then?” 

 

When Isak glances at him, surprised by the sound of concern in his voice, he feels like time has stopped and it's just the two of them there. Technically, they are the only ones in the middle of this empty labyrinth that none of the guests have never bothered to enter, but he feels like there is a pull. Like time has stopped, telling Isak to go for it, that time has stopped just for him to make a move and for it not to be a waste of time if he's rejected. He glances down quickly at Even's lips, hopes it goes unnoticed. He can't do it. Even if he really wants to, he can't make himself lean that much closer. 

 

It would be an embarrassment to his mother if he did and Even rejected him. It would be an embarrassment if Even told the rest of the part and the press how gay their future king was, ruined Isak's ascension to the throne, and given Even the great opportunity to finally get what he's here for. 

 

So, he quickly leans further back, but loses his balance and Isak can ultimately sense how this id going to end. He reaches out, to get his hands on whatever he can to pull himself up and avoid the unavoidable, but instead reaches out and curls his hand in Even's blazer and drags him into the fountain with him. 

 

Isak feels the stone against the bones on his shoulder and winces under the water, but keeps his head tucked in towards his chin to prevent his skull from hitting the hard surface and, possibly, knocking him dead. It hurts just above his bum, too, and he lets go of Even's blazer to rub the tender skin there as he sits up and finally gasps a breath of fresh air. 

 

Even sits up shortly after him, rubbing one hand across his face before pushing his hair away from it. Isak takes a look at him, and he still somehow looks magnificent and he hates him for it. He doesn't even look in pain _at all_.

 

“What the fuck?” Even laughs brightly, indifferently leaning back on his hands, his long legs still over the edge of the fountain, remotely dry. 

 

Isak grumbles under his breath as he continues to rub the area which is most in pain. “Why are you laughing?”

 

“It's funny!” 

 

“No, it isn't! We're all wet now, and it definitely will not be appropriate for us to step back into the party looking like this— I mean, what will my mother, _the Queen_ , say about this—,” Isak rants quickly, looking around and trying to remember which path is the one they just came from. They all look the same.

 

“Isak,” Even says, and he listens to the water swish as he slides closer to him. “Calm down, it'll be fine. I'll take the fault for it, if you need me to.” 

 

“Why would you want to do that?” Isak asks incredulously. “It was definitely, and obviously, my fault. _I_ pulled you in, not the other way around.”

 

Even shrugs, as if it doesn't bother him at all to take the blame. “You're the one who's actually got an image to protect. I don't care being a little bit embarrassing,” he lifts his lips into a small smile as he stares into Isak's eyes.

 

Have they always been this blue? Isak thinks that, maybe, it's the sun that makes his eyes twinkle like they're doing right now. He doesn't know if he wants to classify the colour of Even's eyes as a sea blue or a sky blue — there are too many shades for Isak to only associate them with one colour — so he just decides to name the colour Even's Eyes and tucks it into the back of his mind, never to be spoken aloud. “Thank you,” Isak exhales softly in appreciation. For a second, he's forgotten all about the party, and all he can see, can feel, can hear, is Even. 

 

He lifts a hand from underneath the water and, still wet, presses it against Isak's cheek. Isak doesn't know when was the last time the gardeners replaced the water in the fountain, but he finds out he doesn't care as he leans into Even's touch and closes his eyes. And, through shut eyelids, he feels the shadow of Even's face moving closer before he feels his lips brush against his own, just as they press firmly and Isak reaches out to hold onto Even's wrist, to make him keeps his hand there. 

 

And, just like that, it's like a dam breaks, and they're opening their mouths as they slide their tongues against each other's. Even's up on his knees now as Isak cranes his neck back with the movement, Even's free hand coming up to curl around Isak's neck with a groan. Isak swallows it easily, grabbing a hold of the lapel of his blazer and trying to pull him closer, just before they lean back too much and Isak loses his balance once again, and they both slip underwater. Thankfully, Even's hand quickly comes to the back of his head to cushion it from the stone, and they're happily able to continue kissing even as some water slips into their mouths and it becomes too much.

 

They surge up again, and they laugh at how clumsy Isak is, foreheads pressed together as they keep their hands on each other in a way that feels too easy and natural. 

 

“Do you know how to ride a bike?” Even asks, and it's such a confusing question that Isak can't help but chuckle at the sudden topic of conversation he's decided to take.

 

“Yes, why?”

 

“And you can keep yourself on it? Without falling? With that shitty centre of balance you apparently have?” Even laughs, pressing a light peck on his lips after every question, and Isak's actually so giddy with it all that he can't even remember why he ever felt like he had to hate Even in the first place.

 

”Excuse me,” Isak says, affronted, “But I am the _master_ of balance. I can ride a bike and a skateboard, and I can snowboard, too.” Even raises an eyebrow, and Isak feels the way his thumb is moving up and down the back of his neck comfortably. He's soaking wet but he can't seem to care. “When I say _master_ , I really do mean it. As in, a Master in Physical Balance from the Isak Valtersen University. I was the highest ranked in my class.”

 

Even hums under his breath with a smile, his eyes trained on Isak's. “In your class of one?”

 

Isak rolls his eyes and pushes him away in fake annoyance as they sit close, still in the fountain. 

 

They stay there for a while, in complete silence. He can still hear the chatter from the party somewhere far away, with the orchestra playing a soft melody to accompany the mood. Isak looks around, trying to figure out where the music is coming from, hinting in which direction they should head if they want to get out of here, but Even's being distracting and he's caressing the top of his hand under the water and his stare is something Isak can _feel_ burning on his skin.

 

He turns around — be brave and look him straight in the eye — and gives him a small smile which Even quickly mirrors in response. “Do you know which way we came from?”

 

His smile dims the teeniest bit, Isak notices, but rapidly recovers and opens his mouth to speak, before closing it again and looking around in deep thought. Isak takes advantage of this, stares at Even's profile for the longest time, follows the line from his ear lobe, along his jaw and up his chin dimple towards his lips, before Even faces him again and Isak shakes out of his reverie. “I think it's that way,” Even points at one of the five paths. “But I can't say I'm one hundred percent sure about that.” He moves to stand up, completely ignoring the fact that his feet are still dry and getting them wet in the fountain. He extends a hand to Isak for help, which he graciously takes and lifts himself up before they step out of the fountain, hands still joined together.

 

“I don't even have an inkling to which path it may be,” Isak tells him, as they walk towards the path Even had previously mentioned. 

 

They twist and turn and come to dead ends before moving backwards and turning again, until they finally hear the melody from the orchestra closer and closer. Isak sees it then, sees one of the white-clothed tables at the entrance and exit of the labyrinth, and he lets go of Even's hand so fast he feels a little guilty about it. He flashes him an apologetic glance, but Even smiles understandingly as they step out and go on search for— Right. Sofia. The woman he's going to marry. 

 

Even spots Ariana first and calls out, just as they approach each other, one side looking like wet dogs and the other perfectly polished. 

 

“What happened to you two?” Ariana asks, just as Sofia voices her own doubts in a kinder voice. It only makes Isak feel even guiltier for having kissed Even, when he hasn't even kissed Sofia with the same passion before. It's only been quick pecks, enough for the cameras from the press to flash and take pictures of them for the public to see. Whenever it's in closed quarters, Isak tries his best to keeps his lips away from hers, and he bids her good night with his lips on her forehead or cheek instead. 

 

“We tripped and fell into the fountain,” Even laughs off, wringing the bottom of his blazer.

 

Isak spots his mother in the corner immediately, sees the look of disappointment in her eyes and shies away from it. He knows he's going to get told off tonight, and he's not looking forward to that. 

 

Before anyone else can say anything, Magnus is by his side and telling him he's got a change of clothes in the palace, holding onto his arm and pulling him along.

 

“Wait,” Isak says, making Magnus stop in his tracks. He looks towards Even, who's looking straight at him as Ariana and Sofia talk animatedly — or, well, Ariana does —, and speaks again. “Do we have something for Even? He's all wet, too.”

 

Magnus takes a glance at him, before looking towards Even. There's something behind his eyes when he looks back at Isak, but he brushes it off quickly and nods. “Sure, we can find something for him.”

 

Isak motions for Even to join them, and he sees him excuse himself from the girls before catching up to them. 

 

The three of them walk together towards the palace, but not before Isak catches his mother's eyes again and watches her shake her head at him.

 

# #

 

 **KAROLINE** :

I heard that the Prince and the Viscount’s nephew where seen all wet, and that apparently they’d fallen into the fountain in the garden. I think they got into a fight and then someone must have pushed the other into the fountain before they continued to argue there.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

I don’t know… Don’t you think that would be very unusual? I mean, I don’t see Prince Isak to be the kind to fight another person.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Hey, I’m only making up my own conclusions. But it would be hot, if that was what they did. Two good-looking guys fighting? In my dreams, I just imagine they’re fighting for me.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Please call our public line if you want to ask out Karoline on a date. She desperately needs it. She dreams about two guys half her age and then proceeds to say it on national television.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

It’s a problem, you guys. I may possibly need therapy.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

I think you do.

 

# #

 

“That is _not_ a word,” Even whisper-shouts as they play _Scrabble_ in his bedroom. He’d snuck in late at night into his room with the board game under his arm, and they’re currently sitting on the carpeted floor in Isak’s room. Magnus had already talked to him about it, asked what was going on between the two of them, and Isak had just been able to shrug, because he doesn’t really know either. He’d looked at Isak seriously, with worry in his eyes, but Isak had just nodded and told him to let Even in. As much as he’d like for him to stay over, he’ll build up all the courage he can to bid him good night later on.

 

Isak furrows his eyebrows and huffs. “It _so_ is,” he says, “I say _LOL_ out loud.”

 

Even chokes on his own laugh and covers it with his hand. It’s cute. “I don’t believe that. The Prince of Trivolia, and future king, says _LOL_ out loud? What will the public think of it,” he says, shaking his head in mock disappointment, yet it hits Isak somewhere deep. He doesn’t think he can deal with disappointment. One time in secondary, he’d done something awful to one of Eva’s friends, and she’d looked at him and said _Isak, it’s fine, but I’m just sad that you did that to her, it’s not a very friendly thing to do_. She hadn’t explicitly said she was disappointed, but Isak could see it in her eyes, could sense it in her words. He doesn’t think he’d ever wanted to receive someone’s forgiveness as much as he had that following week, at least, not until his mother came into the picture and he’d wanted to please her every step of the way. Which, he is obviously failing at. Following the conversation after the WASP, Isak had been on his best behaviour, kissed Sofia whenever he had to, stayed away from Even as his mother had told him to (at least, in public), and assisted some parliament sessions to try and get a hang of how they worked.

 

“Nothing, because it’s going to be a secret between you and me,” Isak decides on, winking to further cover the annoying feeling in his gut. “So, three points.” Isak reaches out for the pen to note down his points, when Even takes the pen away from him.

 

“Nope, I really will not be accepting that as a word. I swear it’s not even allowed according to _Scrabble_ rules.”

 

“Come on!” Isak cries before slapping his hands to his mouth. They stay quiet for a few seconds, listening out for any footsteps that might mean Isak’s been heard. Nothing. This time, he whispers, “I have no other words, but I have good point letters,” Isak whines, sticking out his bottom lip.

 

Even rolls his eyes, but as his lips stretch into a smile, Isak knows he’s giving in, except– “No,” he tells him, and Isak unhappily tips all his letters into the bag and scrambles for more letters.

 

“Now I’ve missed my turn,” Isak murmurs, looking down at his new array of letters. They’re okay, but there’s no major-point letters, except a lonely Q.

 

Even bumps his toes against Isak’s knee, making him look up. “You can have your turn,” he smiles, just as Isak slaps down the word _QUEUE_ on the board and earns himself fourteen points. “You had to have that one prepared,” Even says incredulously.

 

Isak shakes his head, “ _You_ made me switch all my letters, remember?”

 

“Incredible,” Even mumbles, as he looks down at his own and furrows his eyebrows in thought.

 

“I’m the best at _Scrabble,_ you’ve got to admit it.”

 

“You were planning on putting _LOL_ down,” Even counters, before arranging his own word on the board and grinning wildly at Isak as he uses his Q and puts _QUIZ_ on the board. “Who’s the best at _Scrabble_?” he asks, taking the pen and noting down his score of twenty-two.

 

Isak huffs loudly, glaring at the word on the board. The bane of his win. “Still me,” he grumbles, as he listens to Even laugh happily.

 

# #

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

I love our Constitution Day! It’s always so fun. The food and the parade! The atmosphere in Trivolia! Incredible.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Same here. I think it’s my favourite day, right up there with Christmas and everything. Have you tried Mrs. Silje’s take on bread? She’s selling it just today in her bakery, and it’s got hints of pear and cinnamon and a zing of lemon. It truly is incredible, honestly.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

No? Mrs. Silje, if you’re watching, please save a loaf for me and I’ll come down to the shop after the parade.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

It’s Prince Isak’s first time on the carriage, isn’t it?

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

It is, indeed. He looks magnificent in that outfit, with the golden details and the white ruffled shirt.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

You’re starting to sound like me, B.

_[laughs]_

But yes, he looks amazing. For those who weren’t able to make it down for the parade, they’re currently on their way along the main street of Trivolia, band of musicians in front of them and a group of dancers behind the royal carriage, with some of our army men behind that.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Army men?

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Oh, yes. It’s a new segment Prince Isak apparently suggested to have. They’re basically people that are still alive, who survived and fought in any war in the past. Heroes, in other words.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

And Prince Isak suggested it?

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Yes! Isn’t it such a great action? And to the unfortunate viewers at home, those who are not strong enough to walk along the parade are being taken in other makeshift carriages the Royal Family has offered.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

That truly is a humbling action. It’s amazing to think that he’ll be the next ruler of our country.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Tiny as we may be of a country, I think that having a great ruler will bring in great tourism and–

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

What is he doing?

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Okay, viewers, the Prince has just ordered for his carriage to be stopped and has stepped off. The parade is currently on a standstill.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

He’s walking off towards the children that could make it from the Children’s hospital.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

And he’s talking to a specific little boy.

_[pause as they try to figure out what is happening]_

Okay, he seems to be telling off two other little boys. Maybe they were bullying the other one?

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

That’s so sad to hear. They’ve all got illnesses, a specific time on the life clock, and yet they still turn to bullying to relieve some of their tension. That’s awful.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

It really is.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Wait, Prince Isak is helping a man give out crowns and flags. And now he’s tying a cloak around the little boy’s neck! Making him look like a king, it seems.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

That is adorable! The parade has now resumed, and Prince Isak is walking the parade now, with the small boy who was being picked on in his arms and followed by the rest of the kids from the Children’s Hospital.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Are the other two boys in it, too?

 

 **KAROLINE** :

I can’t be completely sure… There’s too many kids and I’ve already forgotten what the two little bullies looked like.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Anyway, without doubt, I can say this is one of the best Constitution Day’s parade Trivolia has ever had.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Viva Trivolia! And happy Constitution day everyone! I hope you all have a fantastic day.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Mrs. Silje, I’m on my way.

 

# #

 

Isak’s not entirely sure how happy he is about his bachelor party. It’s a party, sure, which means alcohol – his mother had agreed to let him drink beer during it, which is already a win in itself – and music that doesn’t sucks and has lyrics to it, and generally just having a good time. On the other hand, however, it being his bachelor party means his wedding day is inching closer and closer, which means him and Even had been drifting further apart unknowingly.

 

Sofia’s already begun preparing the day for them both, choosing the flowers and the colour scheme, the mantels for the tables and the decorations to place on them. He’s joined her for the cake tasting, forgone the general menu tasting as he’s not fussy with food, and has already stood in front of the royal seamstress with his wedding suit on, and it’s currently being tailored to his body. Isak knows Sofia’s already got her wedding dress, Eva had joined her in that task, which meant Jonas and him had lazed around in his room with his PlayStation, Magnus joining to play a game or two and jumping straight back up whenever they heard the slightest commotion outside his shut door.

 

He graciously greets every guest that passes through the door, grins at his mum who nods at him from the top of the stairs before slipping away through the hallway and towards the wing of the palace that essentially belongs to her. It feels like appraisal somehow, and the grin doesn’t disappear from his face as he continues to greet the guests, inviting them to grab food from the kitchen’s set-up in the hall, where Notorious B.I.G.’s greatest hits are playing. Isak’s bopping his head to the music, laughs whenever Jonas comes up to him with more mini sandwiches before he moonwalks back to Eva dancing wildly with one of the many princes’ girlfriend. He spots Even somewhere in the crowd, too, laughing with his head thrown back at something Magnus has said.

 

His new bodyguard leans close to him and tells him that’s all the guests, and he shuts the door before thanking him and walking off into the hall where they’re celebrating his bachelor party. He literally slides into the conversation Jonas and Eva are having – they’re going on about a time Eva’s mum had brought a pie onto their dining table and tripped over Jonas’ foot and proceeded to throw the pie on him – and joins in to laugh at Jonas’ past misery just in time. He stands around, bopping his head to _Hypnotize_ as Magnus hands him a beer and he nods in thanks, and listens in to Jonas and Eva’s conversation before he’s being pulled away by Even.

 

With a hand on his arm, Even and him walk towards Magnus just as he hands him a present that’s awfully wrapped in last week’s newspaper, decorated with some flowers that Isak has an inkling are from his garden.

 

“Open it,” Even shouts over the music, lips near his ear in a way that makes him shiver involuntarily. “It’s from the both of us,” he presses closer to Isak then, the hand on his lower back suspiciously sliding further downwards, “And I’ve got a little extra for you after.”

 

He ignored the latter part and keeps his eyes fixated on Magnus as he hands over the present, but he can see the smirk on Even’s face in his peripheral vision. “Are presents at a bachelor party normal?”

 

“They are if they’re sex-related stuff,” Magnus says casually, and Isak almost drops the present at his words.

 

“Erm,” he hesitates. He’s never actually even thought of having sex with Sofia but, now that Magnus has mentioned it, he’ll probably have to do it, right? He needs to have kids in order to have royal heirs to follow, so it’s not like he can totally skip the most crucial part in pregnancies.

 

When he slowly unwraps the newspaper off the present, he finds the packaging of a pair of fluffy handcuffs. It’s definitely a weird novelty gift to give to the future king of Trivolia, but at least it’s better than he expected. It isn’t too sexual, just a pair of handcuffs that he could just easily turn into a lock, if he’s ever in the need to lock two doors shut. Sure, the fluffiness of it might suggest something else they could be used for, but there’s nothing Isak can do about that.

 

“Thanks,” he mumbles loud enough for Magnus to hear it. He turns the box around in his hands, unable to think of anything else to do with them and he looks up at Magnus’ grinning face.

 

“Actually, Jonas and Eva also chipped in, so it’s basically from all four of us, to you. But, you’re welcome, man,” he brings Isak into a hug and he can’t help but laugh and miss Even’s touch at the same time.

 

“Will you say thank you to them for me? I’m just going to slip out and hide these somewhere in my room, so that no-one finds out about these and tells the press,” Isak says, wiggling the box and ignoring the way the handcuffs jingle inside it.

 

Magnus salutes him before walking off in search of his friends. Thankfully, none of his mother’s direct servants were working tonight, so Magnus could casually mix in with the other guests in a way he couldn’t before.

 

Isak walks off quickly, wanting to hide the gift as fast as possible, and completely – somehow – forgets all about Even. That is, except when Even places a hand on his shoulder and Isak almost jumps, scrambling to hide the present behind his back before he sees it’s Even. He takes a deep breath, patting his racing heart over his shirt, as if that would help it calm down, and keeps walking knowing Even will follow.

 

“Just coming to accompany you,” Even says casually, as if there is any need to explain. “Can’t let the Prince get lost in this enormous palace, right?”

 

He rolls his eyes, but smiles nonetheless as they reach the top of the stairs and turn towards the hallway his bedroom is in, “I may have not lived here for long, but I know the way from the main living room to my bedroom and back.”

 

“Of course,” Even says, and when Isak takes a glance at him, he’s nodding at himself. “But just in case you do, I’m here for a helping hand.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Okay.”

 

They walk in silence after that towards his bedroom, the music from downstairs slowly fading into nothingness as they move further and further away from it. When they reach his room, they step in and Isak quickly walks into his closet, thinking he’ll be able to find a place in there to hide these novelty handcuffs in. He’s found the perfect spot, right at the back of his outerwear wardrobe, because some of the coats are so long that they cover the very bottom of it, and he places the box there before closing the door of it and taking a deep breath. Job done. He turns around to walk back into his room, when he realises Even has followed him behind, and he bumps into his chest.

 

“You’re here,” Isak peeps, and Even raises an eyebrow at him.

 

“I’ve been with you since you came up here from the living room.”

 

Isak nods furiously, trying not to sound too dumb. “Yes, yes, of course. I mean that you’re here. In my walk-in closet. I thought you were out there in the room.”

 

“I’m here,” Even whispers even if they’re the only ones in the room, stepping the tiniest bit closer, and Isak now has to look up at him to look into his eyes. Even’s a few inches taller than him, which is only obvious when they’re standing as close as they are now.

 

When Even inevitably reduces the space between them, his hands on his neck as he pulls Isak closer to him, their lips latch onto each other’s. It’s something Isak’s missed – didn’t even know he missed it until now. The feel of Even’s lips against his as they fervently hold onto each other while their mouths move along in sync. He’s so distracted by Even, and the way his hands have untucked Isak’s shirt and are running up his bare back, that he almost misses the crash he hears from downstairs. It’s so loud it almost shakes the palace down, and he can’t help but jump back, open his eyes and stare at Even, shocked.

 

“It’s alright,” Even says, running his hand up and down his back, but now it feels comforting instead of sensual as he pulls him back into his chest. Isak lays his head on his shoulder, closing his eyes and hopes his mother won’t have heard the commotion downstairs, and that nothing irreplaceable has been destroyed. “Someone will clean it up, and there’s no one calling out for you, so it’s probably nothing.”

 

Isak nods against him, pressing his hand against Even’s heart and slightly feeling the beat of it. Something soothing, something that makes his own heart slow down so that it’s beating along with Even’s. “Is this wrong?” he asks quietly, after the silence between them is too loud to ignore. “I mean, it’s my bachelor party – I’m getting married in _two_ weeks, for God’s sake – and here I am fraternising with the enemy.”

 

He feels Even pull back, and Isak steadies himself and watches as a wrinkle appears between Even’s eyebrows. “You think I’m the enemy?”

 

“Well, you’re not a friend, either,” Isak grumbles, but he keeps his hand holding onto Even’s arm, just in case he steps away from him.

 

“Then what am I?”

 

Isak feels helpless, he doesn’t want to think about this right now, doesn’t want to have the _what are we?_ conversation that they will inevitably have to have at some point in the future. “I don’t really know,” he mumbles, falling back onto Even’s chest and sighing happily when his hand resumes its movements on Isak’s bare back. It’s incredibly satisfying. If Isak could have just this, and kisses from Even – lots and lots of them –, he doesn’t think he’d need anything else. Which, is so wrong. So, so wrong when his future bride-to-be is currently sleeping away somewhere in the palace, exhausted from all the work she’s putting into their grand wedding.

 

He can’t help but feel horrible. He can’t help but feel like maybe this is what God’s plans are for him, for Isak to be unhappy forever, but as long as everyone else he lives with is pleased, he’ll be alright. He knows he can’t handle disappointment, that he can’t handle the look of it in his mother’s eyes, and if it’s at the cost of the feeling he gets whenever he’s around Even, then he’ll do it. He’ll do anything for the proud look in his mother’s eyes, and the feeling of being a good son.

 

# #

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

I’ve been told the colour scheme is going to be purplish and neutral colours.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Ah, I think purple will look fantastic on Sofia.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

She’s the _bride_ , K. She’ll be dressed in white. It’s going to be mainly the bridesmaids in purple, and their choice of flowers.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Well, then I think Prince Isak will look magnificent if he decides to wear a purple tie or bow tie or pocket square.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

You think he’ll wear any of those? I don’t think he’s ever worn any.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

He wore that red bow tie on his birthday, didn’t he?

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Oh, yes! He did look great in that. But I’m not sure if he’ll do it here. I’ve heard he’s going to forgo all and go bare, just the top button in sight.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Where are you even hearing all this from? I want _your_ friends!

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

_[sotto voce]_

K, it’s the show’s researchers who find out about all this.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

_[laughs]_

Ah, yes. An honest mistake.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

I need a new co-host.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

I’m your best friend, there’s no way you’re replacing me with someone else. Not while I’m alive, at least.

 

# #

 

Isak’s been preparing for the coronation rituals instead of lending a hand to Sofia. It had sort of been a silent agreement, the fact that he’d focus mainly on his coronation, while she would continue making their upcoming wedding look great. With every passing day, Isak feels like he’s lying to both himself and everyone else he’s surrounded by. His mother, his fiancé, his _best friends_ and Even. On one side, he’s lying to everyone about who he truly is, he’s lying to himself about who he wants to be, and he’s lying to Even by continuing to press kisses against his soft, plump lips whenever they can catch a quick second to slip into the nearest storage closet. It’s unfair to him, because Isak hasn’t voiced his own concerns, doesn’t know what he’ll do once he’s married and sees Even in the side lines of the church.

 

He’s already been taking a few public speech lessons, has learned the right pace to speak at, which words are supposed to be the more pronounced, and how to enunciate every word clearly. Those classes had been absolutely terrible, and he hasn’t enjoyed them at all. The teacher had been monotonous and boring, making Isak miss even the most boring teacher back in high school (which would be his History teacher, as he would often drone on and on about stories that had nothing to do with what they were supposed to be learning according to the syllabus. Isak had received a B in History which, wasn’t the best, but it was passable for a Prince).

 

He'd then been dragged by his mother to multiple parliament sessions and, although he knows it makes his mother extremely proud for him to be attending them and (supposedly) learning about how they work, Isak's only been listening partially during them, couldn't stand hearing them drone on and on about tourism and political alliances. All he'd really been doing during those was think about Even, and what he would be doing at that moment in time — what he even does _all_ day. But he keeps nodding at random times, just to keep his mother happy and therefore, by Isak's own imposed rules, he's happy himself. 

 

He even received some walking lessons, because according to his mum he walks with a back that's too hunched for a royal, and he needs to train how he walks, especially when a heavy crown will be placed atop his head. A heavy crown which he had been able to use during these more practical lessons, and weighed a fucking _tonne_. Isak swears by it. In reality, he's almost glad he's got to practise beforehand, because now he's at least experiences what it feels like to have a heavy as fuck crown on his poor head. There will be no surprises during his coronation. 

 

Now, he's unsuccessfully trying to hit the bullseye with his arrow in the garden. Magnus has been cowering away further and further from the target, and Isak's aim seems to keep worsening after each arrow is thrown nowhere near the target he's supposed to be hitting. 

 

His teacher is absolutely _shit_ , which is so ironic, because wouldn't his mother be able to hire the best in the country? His mother, the _queen_? He keeps screaming at Isak to fix his eyes on the target, but doesn't seemingly realise that shouting at a student is no way of teaching. It only makes Isak more and more nervous after each failed throw, and he's afraid he might end up turning at the wrong point in his anger towards the teacher, and shoot him dead with the bow and arrow in his hands. He prays _that_ doesn't happen.

 

Magnus keeps crying loudly whenever the arrow Isak's trying to shoot doesn't hit anywhere near the target — which is, unfortunately, many times — and it keeps distracting him. Isak wants to laugh at the sounds he's making, but his teacher would probably shout at him some more and he really is trying his best to get him to calm down. Maybe, if Isak manages to do that, he'll return to his normal voice again. 

 

He knows Even's sitting by on a bench reading a book because he'd accidentally thrown one of the arrows at one of the tree trunks beside him, which Isak can't even begin to understand how that happened. His teacher had shouted him loudly for that, and Even had just raised a nicely shaped eyebrow at him, an apologetic smile on his lips before returning to his book. Isak had distractingly stared at the top of Even's head — and the silly strand that had fallen down from his quiff — and had completely ignored the tips his teacher had given him near the beginning. That was probably the reason why Isak was so awful at archery. 

 

“I don't know if this is pointless, or if it's pointless,” his teacher grumbled, shaking his head anxiously. Isak could see one of the bodyguards step forward, as if he was about to tell him that wasn't a polite way in which to speak to a royal, but Isak shook his head and waved him off inconspicuously. 

 

“I apologise,” Isak said calmly, “I'm not the greatest at aiming, which you probably have noticed. But I beg of you to not lose hope in me, and to continue teaching me how to do it, so I can successfully hit the bullseye and, ergo, hit the correct place during my coronation and light the ring on fire.”

 

He watched as his teacher hung his head in exasperation, a loud sigh slipping out from his lips before he looked back at Isak. “Okay, okay,” he said, and Isak had never been so relieved that his ears would be salvaged from another shouting. “I'm just going to go to the toilet and then grab a cup of coffee. I think I'm going to need it if we're going to keep up with you.”

 

Isak nodded politely. “Thank you very much.”

 

His teacher slipped away, and Isak looked around him. He didn't dare try and shoot another arrow right now, not under no professional surveillance. He fears that if he shot someone with an arrow now, it would be his own fault completely. Magnus walks towards him and stops to stand by his side, as they both look at Even on the bench, who is now looking up at them both, his eyes squinting as he faces the sunlight. Isak finds it so cute, he's grinning unknowingly at him. 

 

“You know,” Magnus begins, “You're not exactly subtle when it comes to him.”

 

Isak breaks what he thinks is eye contact with Even, and turns to look at Magnus. “What?”

 

“Even,” he nods, “And whatever thing you've both got going on. It's not subtle.” When he apparently sees the colour drain from Isak's face, he quickly adds, “Or at least to me it isn't. I don't think anyone else has noticed, but they don't spend every second of the day by your side like I do.”

 

Isak hangs his head down, can sense the disappointment in Magnus' tone and he can't look at him right now. Can't confirm his own suspicions. 

 

“He's coming over,” Magnus then says, bumping his elbow into Isak's side, which makes his head shoot back up and, rightly so, Even's walking towards them with his gangly legs. “Don't do anything stupid, everyone's here,” Magnus says quickly before he slips away to give them an air of privacy.

 

“I can see you've been having a little trouble there,” Even says when he's near enough, nodding with his head at the two lonely arrows that are barely stuck to the white section of the target.

 

Isak rolls his eyes, picking up his bow and arrow correctly. He's ignoring the fact that he'd promised himself just seconds ago that he wouldn't practice without his teacher present, but he can't help but try and show off the skills he doesn't have. “As if you could do any better. Archery is hard.”

 

“Matter of fact, I actually _do_ know how to shoot an arrow at a target,” Even smiles smugly when Isak turns to glare at him, annoyed. He really does have it all, doesn't he? He really would be a better king than Isak ever will be. “I can teach you, if you want.”

 

He keeps glaring at Even for a while, trying to decide whether to let him or not. At the end, he figures there's no harm in it. “Teach me your ways, then, Archery Expert.”

 

“Hm,” Even hums with a smile as he directs Isak to hold his bow and arrow up with his hands. “I like that nickname. You should call me that all day today.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Isak says with a roll of his eyes, holding up the bow like his teacher had told him to and holding the arrow between his index and middle finger, but not stretch the band of the bow just yet. “I'll believe it when I see it. Less chit chat, more teaching.”

 

What his initial teacher had not thought about, Isak thinks when Even presses against his back and places his hands over his own, is that actions are better than words, especially when it comes to sports. Even's placing his hands all over his body — to correct his position, he claims loudly — before he's whispering into Isak's ear what he's supposed to be aiming at, and how he's supposed to be looking at his target through one single eye, the side in which he's holding his bow and arrow at. 

 

“Now,” Even whispers in his ear, and Isak swears his lips are _just_ brushing them in a way that seems like teasing to him. “Let go.”

 

Isak lets go of the arrow as told and—

 

“I did it,” he breathes out, surprised. He turns to look at Even and grins wildly. “I did it!” he cheers, jumping up and down before throwing his arms around Even.

 

“Ouch,” he cries, and Isak notices he's still holding the bow and has just pushes the wood into Even's back.

 

“Sorry for that,” Isak says, dropping the bow onto the floor and leaning back to check for any pain in Even's face. “You okay?”

 

Even nods, a dopey smile on his face that Isak wants to keep in his mind for his saddest days. “I really have to tell you something,” he says suddenly, the ends of his lips falling a little, and Isak's afraid of what might come next. “It's actually my last day at the palace today. I'm going to be returning with my uncle back to our place. Even if I haven't seen you as often as I've wanted to, I'll miss you.” He grabs hold of Isak's hands that had been wrapped behind him, and he curls his fingers around them and lets them fall between their bodies. After a quick squeeze, he lets his hands go, and Isak feels so far away, even if they're so close the tips of their shoes are touching. “I just wanted to ask if I could see you one last time, before I go back.”

 

Isak shakes his head solemnly, “My room's more guarded than ever now that both the wedding and the coronation are nearing. They think that by increasing security, they're protecting me from any harm someone might try to inflict on me before the most important two dates of my life.”

 

“Meet me tonight,” Even tells him, a hint of desperation in his voice. When he notices Isak's hesitation, he chirps up, “Otherwise, I'll find high and low to get to see you without anyone else knowing. I will search for a way which is not your bedroom door to get to you.”

 

Isak shrugs. He knows he won't be able to, but he likes that he's likeable enough for someone to offer that. For Even to sound this desperate to see him again. They don't know when they'll see each other again, but Isak's got a sinking feeling that t might be at his wedding. Too late. “I can't stop you from trying.”

 

“No,” Even says, just as Isak spots the look of shock in his teacher's eyes as he walks back into the garden with his cup of coffee and stares at the arrow smack in the middle of the target. “You can't stop me from trying.”

 

# #

 

 **KAROLINE** :

I think the whole ring and fire thing is a bit too much. Doesn't it sound too— I don't know, medieval?

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

It's called a ritual for a reason, K. It means that it has been done for ages. Classic. Old.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Okay, but you have to admit it seems too old for the times we're in. The Queen could have abolished that ritual at least, changed it up to something more modern. Like a simple oath and something very Greek-like, such as smashing plates.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

I'm pretty sure there is no monarchy in Greece, K. It ended ages ago.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

I think the smashing plates thing is just a random day, then. But still, it sounds less archaic than lighting a ring with an arrow that's on fire at the tip.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Maybe you should write a letter to the Queen, then.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

I think I'll wait until Prince Isak is on the throne. He seems more accepting.

 

# #

 

“Guess who’s come to your rescue,” Magnus says from the window, just as Isak’s about to get into bed, one foot already beneath the duvet.

 

“Huh?” he asks, getting into bed anyway, turning in his seat to throw onto the floor all the cushions he won’t be needing to sleep. They really are a pain every single night, and Isak doesn’t see the point in them. He’s pretty sure there’s no need for a crazy number of cushions for a nice-looking bedspread.

 

“Your Prince Charming awaits.” Magnus nods at the window and motions for Isak to get up, and he does so with a grumble, already feeling chilly as his arms are not covered anymore with the heavy blanket.

 

He looks at Magnus suspiciously as he walks towards the window before looking out. It’s dark – Isak’s sure it’s some time past eleven – and the stars nicely sparkle against the dark backdrop. He glances around, before turning to Magnus with a raised eyebrow, “What am I supposed to be looking at?”

 

Magnus makes a show out of rolling his eyes so far back Isak sees them go white, before he leans across Isak and opens the window up halfway. “Even?” he whisper-shouts, and Isak quickly scrambles onto the window sill at the name. Magnus laughs at him, but Isak ignores it in favour of spotting Even peak out from behind a massive bush. Even in the dark-lit night, he can see the white of Even’s teeth as he grins up at him.

 

“Hey,” Even replies, glancing around before leaving his hiding spot and walking until he’s directly below them. “Come down, Isak,” he tells him, and Isak’s almost so eager to be with Even again, that he wants to straight-up jump off from his window and into Even’s arms. He’s sure Even would catch him, if he did happen to be as brave as to jump. “You can climb down the pipe next to your window, place your feet in the dents made between the bricks for grip.”

 

Isak leans his head out the window to look at the pipe down his wall, extending a hand to grip it, shaking it with as much force as he can to test how strongly it’s attached to the exterior of the palace. It’s safe to say it seems like it would be able to hold Isak’s weight if he were to hang off it, but his eyes drift off to Even in question. “Are you sure I won’t fall?”

 

Even nods at him, “One hundred percent sure. And, if you unfortunately do slip and fall, I’ll be down here ready to catch you. Don’t worry.”

 

His words slightly calm him down, and he turns to look at Magnus. “You’ll cover me if mum were to come in for an impromptu visit?”

 

Magnus nods seriously. “I’ve always got your back, man.”

 

“Thanks,” Isak says, squeezing his shoulder before he takes a deep breath and climbs out of his window, stretching out his leg so he can place his foot on the nearest pipe latch. When he’s sure his foot is properly on it, he lifts his other leg out of the window and places it on the latch just underneath. It’s an easier task to climb down the pipe than he expected, and soon enough he’s on the ground, waving Magnus off before he turns to look at Even.

 

He seems to be glowing in the dark, radiant as ever with the moonlight shining in his eyes and reflecting off his blonde hair. “You up for a nice romantic night?” Even asks him, taking his hand as he slips his fingers in between Isak’s.

 

His mind keeps reminding him that his wedding is in two days, that he’s about to get married to an extremely kind girl, that his country and his mother are depending on him to obey the law of ascension. But, he pushes those thoughts to the very back of his mind, allows the thoughts of _EvenEvenEven_ to come forward as he bravely leans up to press a kiss against Even’s lips. “Up for anything you ask me to.”

 

“That’s a bit of a dangerous thing to say,” Even smiles as they walk off into the garden, “What if I asked you to jump into the lake stark-naked, and then I ran off with all your clothes?”

 

Isak shrugs, “I know you’d come back because you would feel too malicious.”

 

Even looks at him with a smile, one that stretches as soon as Isak turns to look back at him. “Really shouldn’t be such an open book,” he laughs, letting go of his hand in favour of throwing it around his shoulders, just to bring Isak close to his side.

 

He buries into his chest as they walk, blindly keeping up with Even’s steps. “I’m a little tired, if I’m honest.”

 

“Really?” Even asks as he stops, “Want to jump on my back?”

 

He contemplates it for a short second before he eagerly nods with a smile. Isak lets Even crouch down as he climbs onto his back, legs wrapping around his waist as Even’s hands hold him up, neatly curved around his bum. Isak laughs as he throws his arms around his neck, face pressed onto Even’s cheek, “Did you offer a piggy back just to feel me up?”

 

“Maybe,” Even grins, a glint in his eye. “Hold on tight,” he says, just before he sprints off into the dark, Isak’s laughter following them along as he bounces up and down with motion against his back.

 

Soon, they reach the only natural lake in the palace’s garden, and Even falls onto his knees with an exaggerated grunt as Isak laughs into his ear. “Tired already? No stamina, I see,” Isak jokes, climbing off him as he takes a seat at the base of a tree, spotting that Even’s probably planned ahead and there’s a picnic basket and a blanket there. Isak throws the blanket over his lap and slips his hands beneath to keep them warm.

 

Even quickly climbs on top of him, hand curling around Isak’s neck as he presses a bruising kiss against his lips, catching him by surprise. “I’ll show you stamina,” he mumbles onto Isak’s lips as he nods dumbly at his words, still shocked from the pure affection Even’s thrown upon him. He brushes his fingers along his perfectly quiffed hair, is out to destroy it and create something imperfect in his perfect appearance. Even groans into his lips, something Isak swallows immediately with a flick of his tongue, as he unconsciously presses the tip of his fingers into his hair, adding pressure.

 

Even’s quick to lay him down on the ground, fusses around with the blanket in between them before he finally decides to throw it to the side, taking pleasure in grinding against Isak’s crotch. It catches him by complete surprise, and Isak makes an extremely high-pitched noise he’d be embarrassed about with anyone else. But it’s Even, and he just honest to God giggles at him, before he leans back down and presses a string of kisses along Isak’s jaw and down his neck. He opens his mouth at the feeling, is so caught up in the sensation that he makes no sound, just gasps quietly as he shuts his eyes and trails his fingers up and down Even’s back.

 

“Would you?” Even hushes, pulling back from Isak as he whines at the loss. He stares up at him, blinks his eyes a few times as he begs the haze to float away.

 

“Would I what?”

 

Isak watches as Even’s eyes flick downwards, towards his crotch, and follows his hand as it trails down his stomach before he traces the line of his cock with a feather-light touch. He hears himself whine at the contact, a desperate little sound that he awkwardly chuckles at after in the silent night. “Mhm,” Even hums, leaning back down to brush his nose against Isak’s, his hand increasing the pressure on the most sensitive part of his body. “I think Your Royal Highness likes it very much.”

 

He nods eagerly, gasps against Even’s mouth as he trails a finger along the skin above his sweatpants. Even obviously seems to take advantage, slipping his tongue into his mouth as he sucks on his lips, slipping his hand quickly into his boxers and grabbing a hold of him. The pure ecstasy Isak feels is insane, makes him feel dizzy with lust as he feels Even’s hand slide up and down his shaft. It’s an embarrassingly indecent action for a prince to be doing out in the open, but he shuts his eyes in favour of completely falling under Even’s spell. He fucks up into the curl of Even’s hand, gasps as he encourages to do just what he’s doing, whines when Even’s squeezes around him in surprise, and groans when he finally comes onto his bare stomach as Even shuts him up with a dreamy kiss that forces Isak to breathe deeply through his nose.

 

“You okay?” Even whispers, and Isak notices the rough edge to his voice, wonders if that’s how his voice sounds at first hour in the morning. He presses a kiss against the tip of his nose, nodding as he watches Even’s lips twitch into a smile. “Good?”

 

“Fantastic,” Isak mumbles, sliding his hand down to Even’s crotch, more than disappointed when he curls his fingers around him through his trousers and doesn’t feel it rock hard.

 

Even shakes his head, kisses both of Isak’s cheeks and laughs softly. “You sound and look really hot when you come,” he shrugs, sticking a clean hand into the basket and rummaging around before he comes up with a napkin, swiping Isak’s stomach clean before he tugs down his t-shirt.

 

“You already…?”

 

“Couldn’t help it,” Even smiles, falling onto his back beside Isak as they stare up at the stars, their breaths syncing in the silence. “Unfortunately, I don’t have a change of pants and I’m feeling slightly sticky.”

 

Isak laughs into the silence, turns to his side and slips his leg between Even’s nonetheless. “Hopefully it’ll go away.”

 

Even curls his hand around Isak, draws patterns with his fingers up his back as he shuts his eyes to bask in the feeling. He’s feeling sleepy, but at the same time, he’s desperate to stay up all night with Even, even if that means returning to his bedroom with dark circles under his eyes.

 

“Tell me your deep and darkest secret,” Even whispers, pressing his lips against Isak’s hairline as he slides his hand up to bury his fingers into his curls.

 

Isak hums, “And why should I?”

 

He feels Even lift his shoulder in a shrug. When he doesn’t say anything else, Isak takes it as his response and he takes a few moments to think about what he’ll say. Even if they’ve not known each other for long, Isak feels like he doesn’t trust anyone else more than he trusts Even. He doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse, the fact that Even won’t be the one he gets to spend the rest of his life with, the fact that he’ll be committed to eternity with someone else in little more than twenty-four hours.

 

“I’m afraid of being a failure,” Isak whispers, his voice obviously shaky as he confesses his darkest secret, the only thing he’s kept to himself only. Something he’s never voiced aloud, knowing that would be held against him at some point, and that it will count as a weakness.

 

Even places two fingers against Isak’s chin, pushing onto his skin as it forces Isak to lift his head and look up at him. “You’re not a failure, and you never will be,” he tells him. And, as much as Isak wants to believe in him, he knows the words can’t possibly be as true as he makes them sound. “Honestly. I know how proud your mum is, I can see it in her eyes. I’ve never been to any of the parliament sessions, but I hear what happens in them through my uncle, when he comes back and rants about them. She defends you in those meetings like no one else possibly could. No one believes in you as much as she and I do, and I’m sure she’s completely changed many of the member’s opinions on you. You have a whole group of people backing you up, ready to support you, and you have no need to worry about failure. They won’t let you fail,” Even leans down to press a kiss between his eyebrows. “And I won’t let you either.”

 

Isak exhales shakily, feeling overwhelmed with Even’s kind words before he places his hand on Even’s chest for support and slips his lips between Even’s in a kiss.

 

“You really have nothing to worry about. Even if my words mean nothing to you, I want to say that I believe in you, and that I know you won’t bring Trivolia down once you become king. I haven’t known you for the longest time, but I can recognise your diplomatic traits, and I know there’s no way you’re as dumb as you think you are. You’ve aced all your exams in high school, have top grades, so you’ve got a brain, too.” Isak raises an eyebrow. He’s sure he’s never mentioned his academic grades while in conversation with him. “I read the national paper,” Even explains. “And the whole country was extremely proud of you when your results came in. I’m pretty sure your mother tipped them, couldn’t possibly hide her pride. She’d created the perfect child,” Even smiles, his eyes squinting into crescents. “Looks, brains and personality. I’m pretty sure there’s scientists all around the world already wanting to make experiments on you.”

 

Isak laughs into Even’s neck, purses his lips into a kiss because he can. “You’re an idiot.”

 

“Give me your hand,” he says seriously, leaning up on his forearms as he moves to sit up, making Isak whine at the fact that they can’t lie down anymore.

 

“Why?” he asks, but obeys nonetheless and offers up his hand.

 

Even curls his fingers along his before he grins up at him, stares right into his eyes before he says in a rush, “One, two, three, four, I declare a thumb war!”

 

Isak’s thoughts are a whirlwind before he realises what’s happening just in time, and he bends his thumb as backwards as it will go. “You weren’t going to warn me?” Isak asks accusingly, trying to make his thumb bend in impossible ways to hold Even’s thumb underneath his.

 

“Nope,” Even chuckles, his other hand slipping back into the basket with dexterity, as he takes out a paper bag, places it next to them before he dips his hand in and takes out a bunch of popcorn. He places it on his lap, popping some of them into his mouth as he munches away with a smile, still cleverly avoiding Isak’s thumb.

 

“Let me win,” Isak proposes, “Or I won’t kiss you anymore.”

 

Even laughs, slipping a piece of popcorn between Isak’s lips. He glares at him mockingly as he chews. “Now, I know that is completely false. The biggest lie you’ve ever told.” He pouts, showing off his lips – Isak can’t help but think how nice it would be if they completely forgot about the thumb war and they fell into another moment like the one before – before he speaks again. “You’d miss these too much.”

 

Isak huffs, annoyed at the fact that he’s been caught in his own lie. “Well, you can’t say that you wouldn’t miss these, either.”

 

Even nods, unafraid of being honest. “I really couldn’t help it. Even now, when I’m alone with you, I want to kiss you all the time.” Caught in the moment, Isak sneakily manages to trap Even’s thumb under his own and he cheers.

 

“I win,” he grins, just as Even nods, not caring one little bit about losing, as he crawls towards Isak and kisses him, his hand slipping into the back of Isak’s hair. He pulls back quickly though, Isak tries to chase his lips, but Even just grins at him and sits back down in front of him.

 

“I’ve brought some snacks for us,” he says, reaching out for the basket as Isak crawls to sit beside him, both of their backs leaning against the massive tree trunk. Even takes out a glass bottle, says _fresh orange juice_ when Isak raises an eyebrow at him, before he takes out two small carton boxes and says _chocolate milks_ , and finally takes out a Tupperware filled with cookies. “I told Magnus to tell the kitchen to make some for us.”

 

“How come I don’t know you and Magnus are so close?” Isak asks, poking his straw into the chocolate milk box and taking a sip, taking a handful of popcorn.

 

“We keep our friendships under wraps,” Even smiles, taking a massive gulp from the orange juice as he opens the Tupperware and takes a bite out of a cookie.

 

Isak raises an eyebrow, “You involved in any more secret relationships, apart from with me?”

 

Even shakes his head, leaning close to press a quick kiss against Isak’s lips. “Just you, my baby Prince.”

 

He furrows his eyebrows in mock anger at the words, chews around a mouthful of popcorn. “I don’t know if I’m completely into that nickname.”

 

“Why not?” Even asks, throwing the rest of the cookie into his mouth, pushing a strand of Isak’s hair away from his forehead. “It’s cute.”

 

Isak squints at him, his eyes closed into almost-slits as he takes a careful look at Even’s smile, as if trying to decipher if he’s actually telling the truth, or if he’s making fun of it. He smiles though when he realises Even’s being completely honest. “Okay, I’ll accept it because it’s you. But if you tell anyone you call me that, I _will_ have to kill you.”

 

“Really? I thought you said that whole shit’s medieval and you guys don’t chop heads off anymore.”

 

“Who said chopping a head off is the only way to kill a person?”

 

Even laughs at his words, “Okay, okay. I’ll keep it a secret,” he defends, placing his hand on Isak’s thigh as he draws circles absentmindedly.

 

After they’ve eaten all the cookies and popcorn, and downed all their drinks, they snuggle underneath the blanket. Isak leans his head on Even’s chest, so used to his own plush pillow, that he finds the ground terribly hard. It makes him sound spoiled, but Even laughs, happily offering his chest as a pillow.

 

“Your turn,” Isak mumbles when they’ve settled and their breaths are in sync. “To tell me your deep and darkest secret.”

 

Even takes an extremely long while to respond. Isak’s almost afraid that he’s fallen asleep, and that he’s confessed his own deepest secret, and he’s not getting anything in return. “I think,” Even whispers. It’s so quiet, that Isak’s fear switches, and now he’s afraid Even might confess to murder, or something darker. “I think I could so easily fall in love with you. Think I’m already on my way.”

 

# #

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Breaking news: we’ve been sent an anonymous video where we see Prince Isak and Even Bech Næsheim waking up together by a tree we suspect is in the palace’s garden, by the look of it.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

I really, honestly couldn’t believe it until I saw the video. It’s insane.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Does this mean the wedding is still going on? I mean, isn’t it obvious by their faces and the way they were sleeping before they woke up, that they’re completely in love with each other?

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

I don’t know about in love, but it certainly looks like they’re more than friends. I think this is the biggest royal scandal to have surfaced in the history of Trivolia.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Look at the video. Look at Prince Isak’s face when he stares straight into the camera and how his expression just– falls.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Yes, I think I see it.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

And when he storms off. It’s like he realises he’s been lied to by Even.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Even’s the Viscount’s nephew, if any of our viewers didn’t know about that small detail.

_[gasps]_

Do you think this might be an evil trick they’ve done to ruin Prince Isak’s image? I mean, it is the Viscount and Even that are out to steal his throne.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

If you didn’t know, a few shows ago, we mentioned how it was Viscount Næsheim that claimed his nephew, Even, was the right heir to the throne, that Prince Isak had none of the skills for it as he hasn’t lived in Trivolia for ages.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

I think they’ve both definitely plotted against the Prince. He’s been tricked by two evil minds that were working against him.

 

# #

 

He’s locked himself in his room ever since the video had surfaced on the web, which meant everyone probably knew that he wasn’t just attracted to girls, that he may have never even been attracted to girls ever. He’s muffling his angry screams into his pillow, letting his tears stain the silk cases, as he ignores the knocking on his door. Magnus had tried to talk to him when he’d ran back to his room, but Isak had shaken his head and told him to not let anyone in. He was certainly doing a good job, as Isak’s crying had gone uninterrupted.

 

When he’s sure his dry out of tears, he turns around to lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling as he tries to get his breathing back to normal. He can still feel the pain in his heart, as if heartbreak were something that affected a person physically, instead of just emotionally, and he presses his hand onto his chest, trying to make it stop hurting. It’s no use. Once he hears his door handle squeak, he squeezes his eyes shut, not wanting to know who’s just entered to check up on him. Maybe Magnus wasn’t doing that good of a job.

 

“Hey,” a voice says, and Isak opens one eye to look at Magnus staring down at him from the side of his bed. He gives him a weak smile, taking in Isak’s face, which probably looks awful. He makes a mental note to wash his face before he leaves his bedroom, if he ever does, that is. He might as well just lock himself in here forever, avoid ever being in contact with any cameras, thus avoid being embarrassed forever. “I know you’re not feeling your best,” Magnus says kindly. He makes the bed sink sideways a little when he takes a seat at the edge of it. “But Sofia’s outside and she says she wants to talk to you. She says it’s important, and that she’s not here to shout at you about the video.”

 

Isak glances at him, allows his eyes to roam around Magnus’ face. He seems apologetic, like he thinks this all happened because of his own fault, because he encouraged Isak to agree to Even’s request. He shakes his head slightly, knowing that Magnus will understand and, by the way some of the tension in his shoulders seems to disappear, he knows Magnus has received the message.

 

“You can let her in,” Isak tells him. His voice sounds rougher than it’s ever sounded before, but he figures it’s probably because of all the crying and unnecessary shouting he’s done, and because he hasn’t spoken to anyone for around half a day. His wedding is in less than twenty-four hours, and he doesn’t even know if it will actually be going through, or not.

 

Magnus nods, squeezing his shoulder before he goes to open the door as Isak sits himself up on the bed. He watches as Sofia slips inside, closes the door behind her and walks to sit in the exact same place Magnus had been seconds before.

 

“Hey,” she says, but she’s smiling slightly, and Isak doesn’t know what it means.

 

“Hi,” he croaks out. He feels like he needs to explain himself, and he rushes to get some words out, because he knows that if he’s feeling hurt because of Even, Sofia’s probably hurt too because of what _he_ did to _her_. “I just want to say how sorry I am, and I can’t apologise enough for my actions–”

 

Sofia shakes her head at him, making him stop. She looks down at her hands, and Isak follows her eyes, watching as she curls her fingers into her palm and stretches them out again. Before he even has the time to process what’s happening, she surprised him by surging towards him, hands on his shoulders as she kisses him eagerly. He’s so surprised by the action, that he follows her lips, but when he realises what he’s doing, he pushes her off slowly. It’s not right to be doing this to her, to be sending out the wrong message.

 

“I need you to be completely honest with me,” she says as she sits back. “And I won’t want you to lie to me, and more so, like to yourself about it. Did you feel anything, just now?”

 

He looks at her apologetically, winces when he shakes his head at her. “I’m sorry.”

 

When he sees her smile a little, he gets confused. “It’s actually fine, if I’m completely honest with you,” she shrugs her shoulders as if it was nothing. “I mean, you’re a great guy and all, the best available bachelor – or unavailable, I don’t know – out there of our age, but I don’t know. I feel like when you meet someone, someone you want to spend your whole life with, you feel like a little something extra, you know? Like that extra spark, something that fires up something deep inside you and makes you think, _wow, he’s the one for me_.” Her eyes turn sympathetic as she looks back at him. “And I don’t think you’re it for me. As I now found out, you don’t think I’m the one for you either.”

 

Isak laughs awkwardly at her words, doesn’t know how he’s supposed to react to them. “Thanks,” he says jokingly, but Sofia nods at him. “But what does this mean for tomorrow? Why did you agree to marry me in the first place?”

 

“Your mother is very persuasive. She talked to me beforehand, so I sort of already had a feeling you’d propose on that day. But she said that it’s for the best, and that she really liked me for you. And, well, your mother is incredibly kind, so it’s not like a minded much if she happened to become my mother-in-law.” She pauses for a short while, and Isak can see the wheels turning in her head as she thinks about his other question. “As for tomorrow, I’ll do whatever you ask me to do. It’s your decision, Isak. You’re the one that needs this. If you want us to get married, I’ll do it, because I like you nonetheless, and I’m sure I could live with you forever. And, if you decide you don’t want to follow through with the wedding, I’ll accept that, too. And I will support whatever decision you make.”

 

He takes her hand in his, pulling her onto him for a hug. “Thank you,” he says into her ear, as he feels her smile. “Thank you very much for all you’ve done.”

 

And he knows Sofia’s received the right message when she squeezes his arm in response.

 

# #

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

So, they’re going through with the wedding, then.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

I believe so. There’s been no announcement of any cancellation of sorts, so that means there’s a wedding.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

What do you think about that?

 

 **KAROLINE** :

I’m not completely sure what to think of it.

_[pauses]_

I don’t know if I’m happy or sad _for_ Prince Isak.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

You don’t think he loves her.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

I just think it’s sad that, no matter whether his feelings are real or not, he has to get married in order to be king. That law of ascension should be abolished. It’s unfair.

_[shakes her head]_

No one should have to marry this young and this day in time. It’s a completely medieval aspect.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

I think he’ll do it for the crown. He knows his mother doesn’t want to rule over Trivolia anymore, she’s voiced her own thoughts on that topic very clearly to the public, and he probably feels like it’s his right to do it.

_[pauses]_

He’s probably doing it for his mother, and their name. They surely must not want another family to follow.

 

 **KAROLINE** :

Maybe. I just hope he’ll be happy. He looks his best when he’s happy, and smiling, and you can see it’s honest happiness in his eyes.

 

 **BRIGITTE** :

Here we go again.

 

# #

 

“Psst,” Isak hears, making him jump as he tries to properly tie his tie around his neck. It’s more difficult when his fingers won’t stop shaking at the nerves. He glances around the room, but sees no one. He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, takes another look at himself in the mirror and sighs. “Psst.”

 

“Where are you? _Who_ are you?” Isak exasperates, lowly, so no one standing guard outside thinks he’s gone completely insane and is talking to himself.

 

“It’s Magnus, you doofus. I’m in the room next door.”

 

“How is it that I can hear you?”

 

Isak can’t see him, but he’s almost sure Magnus just rolled his eyes at him. “That other door that is neither a small closet nor the main one to the hallway? It’s the door connected to the room next to you. I’m speaking into the slit between the door and threshold.”

 

He looks around, before finding out which door Magnus is behind. He tries to open it, but it’s locked.

 

“Nice going. Didn’t you think that I would have opened it, if it wasn’t locked already? I’ve already tried.”

 

“Stop being so mean,” Isak whines, but he stays close to the door. “What do you want?”

 

“I’m here to tell you something.”

 

When Magnus doesn’t say anything else after a long minute, Isak bangs on the door once, beaming happily when he hears Magnus groan. “Well, do tell. I haven’t got that much time in my hands. They’re expecting me to walk down the aisle in less than a minute or two.”

 

“It wasn’t him,” he says quickly. Isak gets a sinking feeling, knows who _him_ may be. “Even, I mean. It wasn’t him. I know I have no reason to believe in him, but I do. He came up to me and told me it wasn’t him that organised that man to film you guys waking up. His uncle set it up. He says he hears him on the phone, talking to someone – the man that filmed you, probably – but he told me to tell you that. And,” he pauses for a quick second, as if he were trying to remember what else he had to say. “Oh, yes! He wanted me to tell you that he was being one hundred percent honest when he was talking to you that night. Something about a secret. That it’s true.” Isak takes a deep breath.

 

_I think I could so easily fall in love with you._

_Think I’m already on my way._

“So,” Magnus says, a curious tilt to his voice. “What’s the secret?”

 

Isak bangs his hand against the door again and listens as Magnus curses him. “Thank you, Mags,” he calls out, fingers moving with dexterity as he ties his bow tie, as if he’d just gained a clear mind and was ready to take on the world after Magnus’ words. Or, well, Even’s.

 

He opens his door to step out into the hallway of the church, when he’s met face to face with his mother. He hasn’t spoken to her much after the video ordeal. He’s seen her speak to Sofia a lot, but every time she seemed like she was going to call out his name, he’s ducked out of her sight, unable to deal with the disappointment he’s definitely inflicted on her.

 

“Hey,” Isak sighs out, hand gripping onto the door handle.

 

His mother smiles at him, before she steps closer and brings him into her chest, her hands running up and down soothingly. “My baby,” she says, and it sounds like she’s relieved, but he doesn’t understand why. She pulls back to hold him at arm’s length, her eyes scanning up and down his body before she smiles. “I thought you’d never talk to me again, and I don’t know why.”

 

Isak shrugs, tries to mirror the smile on her face, but he thinks it turns out more like a grim smile than anything else.

 

“Sofia’s talked to me. And, whether you like it or not, I had a talking to with Even, too. Which, surprised me. He came up to me himself while you were locked in your room after the video surfaced.” She takes in Isak’s reaction, and squeezes his arm. “There’s nothing you should be worried about, baby. My son. I believe in you and your capabilities to do this country proud, and I know that with your clever mind, you’ll be able to improve so many things in Trivolia. There’s so many people that believe in you, and I want you to follow your heart when you step out there, that I’ll be proud of you no matter what you do or say. I only ask of you to do one thing,” she raises her eyebrow at Isak, and he nods. He’ll do anything. He’ll do anything she asks of him, because his mother is the person he wants to impress the most. “I just want you to believe in _yourself_ , and what you are able to do. Nothing will be able to tear you down, as long as you believe in yourself.”

 

He nods at her furiously, wants to tell her that _he will, he will, he will,_ but the words are stuck in his throat. She seems to understand anyway – she is his _mother_ , after all – and she quickly tugs him back into her chest again, presses a kiss against the top of his head. Isak leans his head down onto his mother’s shoulder, knows that he probably got his height from his dead father’s genes, and he hugs her tightly. _I’ll do my best,_ he hopes he implies with the hug.

 

When he finally lets her go, he kisses his mother on the cheek.

 

“I love you very much, Isak,” she tells him, rubbing her hand up and down his arm as he smiles down at her. “And Even’s a good kid.”

 

Isak laughs at the comment, but bends down to kiss her cheek again. “I love you, too, mamma.”

 

“Go get ‘em,” she says, beaming, and Isak can feel his heart racing as he sees the pride in her eyes.

 

He nods at her, walking backwards through the hallway, before he finally turns with a final wink and comes to the beginning of the aisle.

 

The rows are filled with people, some he knows from the parliament sessions, and some who are complete strangers to him. He feels a little awful, for not having said anything, and for making them believe they’re still attending a wedding. When the choir leader spots him, he directs his pupils to begin their melody, and all the guests turn in their seats to look at him. He feels small with all these eyes looking down at him, but he remembers his mother’s words, and it’s like the propel him to grow.

 

With renewed confidence, he walks down the aisle, rushes as soon as he feels he’s going too slow, and the choir speeds up their melody in a way that makes him laugh. When he’s at the end of the aisle, he climbs up the stairs to the podium placed to the side of the elevated floor.

 

He taps on the microphone to check if it’s working, and thanks the sound people that turn it on for him with a nod. Isak’s nerves rocket up to a new high when he looks down at all the guests, every single one of them anxiously looking up at him. All eyes are on him, and he can feel his hands shake behind the podium.

 

 _I believe in you_.

 

_Think I’m already on my way._

 

“Hello everyone,” he says, too close to the microphone, he realises a moment too late, when his voice booms across the church and he sees some people wince at the noise. “Sorry,” he apologises with a laugh, leaning further away from the microphone. “I just wanted to thank you all for coming. I know you were probably expecting a wedding, but I hope you understand that there will not be one today. As a matter of fact,” he says louder, when people start to murmur in their benches. “I don’t think I’ll be getting married any time soon,” _unless someone specific asked me to_ goes unsaid. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to admit just how much he feels towards Even. “But I can say that I will still be looking forward to be crowned king in a week’s time.” When the rumble from the crowd grows louder, he clears his throat into the microphone, and it shuts everyone up. “Additionally, I am requesting the parliament members right now, to abolish the law of ascension.

 

“Two years ago, sadly, my father passed away. Although I wasn’t able to meet him before it happened, I know he was a great king, and did incredible at being your leader. When my mother took on his reins, no one forced her to marry again, because you understood that she loved someone else dearly, that even though that person was with not with us anymore, her heart still belonged to him. And I just want to ask you now, did you see anything wrong with how she lead the country after my father’s death, alone? Did you ever think she needed someone else beside her, to help her rule the country we are so proud of? No, you didn’t. Because she was fantastic, and she could do it all by herself. She was able to rule with no help at all, she’s increased the money flowing into the country with the exports, she’s increased trade with other countries. And you didn’t doubt her decisions at all, you trusted my mother and her decisions.

 

“So, I ask of you, to give me the opportunity to do the same, with no one else by my side. I am the son of my mother, and I know that all those skills she so incredibly has, have been passed on to me. I know what I am capable of, and I can proudly say that I have learned how the political world works in Trivolia – I’ve had the best teacher, after all.” He spots his mother in the back of the church right away, nods at her when she smiles. “My mother believes in me,” he continues, hearing the echo of a door creaking open in the otherwise silent church. When he sees Even sliding in, taking a place beside his mother at the back wall, he feels his heart beat faster. “And I have other people who believe in me, too. Incredible people who have helped me along the way, as I prepared for my duties as king.

 

“To be honest, I never really believe I could do it. I didn’t think I would be able to rule a whole country when my mother first announced she wanted to renounce her position as queen and pass the baton on to me. But then I met someone that changed my view on myself, on who I was and who I’ve decided to become. And I’ve decided to become your ruler, your leader, your king, whatever you want to call it. But I want to be more than that to every single one of you. I want to become your friend, I want to be a listener. I want to not only make thing better for our country, but I want you to be proud of living in a country like ours.

 

“I truly believe in myself, and in my capabilities as a ruler. I can be diplomatic when I have to, and autocratic in other cases, when needed. I will work as hard as I need to make you live in a happier place. I aim for you to live in your happiest years while I am king, and I hope that you will understand and support me.” He looks straight into the section where all the parliament members have sat, stares at them all with a determined look on his face. “And so, I request the abolishment of the law of ascension, so I can be your king and not have to marry. This way, you will not be robbing to people of true love, as I do not feel anything but friendly affection towards Sofia, and it’s the same with her. I’d like to request you to make a vote now, and to stand up if you are in favour of abolishing the law.”

 

The room is silent for a long while, and Isak loses hope in himself. He’s probably just embarrassed himself with that awfully long speech, and his request will be denied in public, in front of hundreds of people in the room, and millions back at home watching from their televisions. He looks towards the back of the room, his eyes nervous and worried as he looks at Even. He sees him shake his head and flash a smile, before he pretends to clap without making any noise. It makes Isak’s lips twitch. When Even presses his hands above his heart and bows slightly, he’s extremely tempted to lean into the microphone and say _I love you_ for everyone to hear.

 

“I vote in favour of the abolishment of the law of ascension,” a voice says suddenly, and Isak’s eyes flick towards the bottom of the room, as he sees it’s the Prime Minister voicing his decision. He almost squeaks in delight, before he caches himself, and he presses his lips together.

 

He watches on eagerly, as more and more members rise to vote in favour, following along with the Prime Minister, which probably coaxed the vote, but Isak couldn’t care less. As long as it goes through, he’ll be content.

 

“As the majority has voted in favour,” the Prime Minister announces, just as his wife nods as if confirming that the majority of the parliament is standing up, “I can formally declare that the law of ascension has been abolished, and that there is no need for Prince Isak to be married before becoming king.”

 

Even’s the first one to clap at that, and Isak beams at him wildly as he listens to the rest of the guests join in, before he’s surrounded by the sound of claps, seemingly louder as the noise bounces off the walls and high ceilings of the church.

 

“No!” Isak hears suddenly, and his eyes roam around the room to try and find out who it is. “No, no, no, no. No!” It’s the Viscount, Even’s uncle, walking along the aisle as he goes to stand on the elevated floor, yet still beneath Isak’s height on the elevated section with the podium. “This is absolute madness. The law has been with us for so many years, and it had been placed for a reason. Prince Isak is not eligible for king, thus the position should be taken by my nephew, who is the righteous follower after the end of the Valtersen rule.” He looks straight at Even, motioning with his hand to come up to him. “Even, come. Tell them all that the throne is yours to take.”

 

He shakes his head from the back once everyone had turned to look at him. “No, thank you,” he says calmly, loud enough to be heard across the room, with everyone silent at his response. He walks along the back of the church, reaching the beginning of the aisle before he looks up at Isak, and Isak can feel his heart beat faster. _I’m proud of you_ , he thinks Even mouths at him, and he doesn’t know if his smile can stretch any wider. And, with that, he opens the church’s doors and disappears behind him with a captain-like salute at Isak, beaming with happiness. Everyone watches on as his uncle, anger radiating from him, stumbles across the aisle to chase Even down, before he too disappears behind the doors, and the crowd turns around again to look at Isak.

 

He leans back closer to the microphone and, with a smile that he thinks no one will be able to dim down for a long while, he says, “Anyone up for a free wedding buffet?”

 

# #

 

Isak’s sitting on his throne, trying to get used to the silk cushions for the coronation. He keeps sliding down in his seat because of the material, and he huffs out breath in annoyance when he has to sit himself up for the eighth time.

 

It’s the day after he proudly managed to do something by himself for the country, even if he’s not king yet, he already feels like people believe he’ll do well. He can’t help but feel excited for what’s to come, and he’s ready to take on whatever royal duties he has to. He’ll work day and night for his country, and he hopes the people will work with him instead of against.

 

He slides up for the ninth time, grumbling at the silky material, when he hears the doors in the coronation room open and the tap of shoes against marble as they walk up the room. Isak raises his head from where he’s glaring at the silk, and beams when he sees it’s Even. He’d disappeared after he’d left the church, and Isak was so overwhelmed with the guests coming up to him with little praising comments, that he had been unable to disappear and go on the lookout for him.

 

When Even kneels down in front of the throne, where the community usually kneels when they want to request or gift something to his mother – and soon, him – Isak’s eyes shine as he waits for his request. He likes it when they joke around.

 

“Your Majesty,” Even says after clearing his throat, and Isak laughs at the title he’s addressing him by. He’s not even been crowned king yet. “I have not known you for long, but if you remember the night we spent together, I would like to firstly apologise for any betrayal you may have felt in the morning, and I apologise for my uncle’s doings.” Isak rolls his eyes at the formality of his speech, but keeps the grin on his face. It’s like his cheeks have been stuck with super-glue to stay like that ever since Even walked in through those doors. “I would also like you to remember what I said, when I confessed my deepest, but not definitely not darkest, secret to you. I would like you to know that I am not on my way anymore, that I am already there, right at the finish line.” He pauses, and Isak watches as one of his hands slip into his blazer’s pocket, coming out with a small velvet box in his hand. His eyes widen, and he looks at Even shocked. “That is why I would like to request your hand in marriage. That I love you now, that I may have possibly loved you before I even knew it, and that I will promise to love you for all eternity.”

 

Isak stands up from his seat, walks down the stairs before he kneels in front of Even and holds his hand between his, a finger tracing the ring inside the box as he stares at it with delight. “You don’t have to be so formal. It sounds weird when you speak like that.”

 

Even laughs happily, and Isak’s truly missed that sound. “Okay. Will you marry me, then?”

 

“You know,” Isak says offhandedly, taking the box from him as he takes a seat on the marbled floor. Even furrows his eyebrows, but he mirrors him and sits in front of him. “If you’d asked me to marry you yesterday, we wouldn’t have wasted all our money on the decorations and the banquet on the wedding that didn’t happen.”

 

“Yesterday was tainted with the thoughts of you and Sofia ever getting married, and I don’t want our wedding to have any hints of it. I want our wedding to be ours and ours only, one in which you actually have your say in the decorations, and you haven’t just thrown onto another person to choose for you.”

 

Isak looks up at him, places his hand in Even’s. “I don’t even know why you’re asking me to marry you,” he says, “You should know by now that I’d follow you to the end of the world, and that I’d obviously say yes.”

 

Even laughs, “It’s still correct to ask permission first. It would be wrong of me to just assume, plan a wedding without you even realising there is one.”

 

He rolls his eyes at Even’s righteous words, before he places a hand in the space Even’s legs have formed as he sits criss-cross, and pushes himself up, leaning closer to Even’s lips as he dives into his personal space and is enveloped with his scent. “I’m going to say yes to us,” he mumbles, right before Even smiles and pulls him in by the neck, as their lips crash onto each other’s and they lock their promise of forever with a pleasant kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> for my next story, i want your help! i'm stuck between choosing whether to write a gbbo au or a the amazing race au, so have your say in the comments below on which one i should write first (because, knowing myself, i'll probably write the other one at some point in the future)
> 
> thank you thank you thank for reading this! and i hope you enjoyed x


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